


The lonely dragon

by Leonora01



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Dragons, Female Jon Snow, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow-centric, Magic, Not a Love Story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Jon Snow, Politics, R Plus L Equals J, Violence, Warg Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 113,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonora01/pseuds/Leonora01
Summary: Following the victory of Rhaegar Tagaryen against the forces of the usurper Robert Baratheon and the end of the reign of the mad king Aerys Tagaryen the people can finally hope for an era of peace for the realm of the seven kingdoms. Though their hopes are crushed with the early death of the newly crowned King Rheagar, which will again lead to a path of destruction for Westeros and far beyond. Amid this all a lonely dragon tries to survive.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Jon Snow, Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow & Starks, Jon Snow/ Aegon Tagaryen (NOT especially romantic), Jon Snow/Aegon VI Targaryen, Jon Snow/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 273
Kudos: 431





	1. Prologe: War's at End

The last months had been hard a challenge to endure for the whole of the realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Not one region had been spared the destruction brought on them by the rebellion. Not one had remained free its consequences. And it mattered not whether one was a member of the common people or belonged to the ranks of nobility. Chaos and destruction had shown their faces everywhere.

For nearly a year the fights had torn the realm apart, had the civil war lasted on ere it had come to its end. Yet, this had not come without costs. Although the army of the crown had finally triumphed against the forces of the usurper and Crown Prince Rhaegar himself had beaten Robert Baratheon in a fight head to head, the people were still caught in a state of fear, grief and confusion.

In the aftermath of the death of Robert Baratheon, the army of the usurper had lost its will to fight and shortly thereafter, the lords Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn, both supporters and instigators of Robert and the rebellion, had been imprisoned. In the expectation to be judged by their former royal liege and to be found guilty of their crime of treason, they had been caught by surprise to be not only left alive, but to have their wounds taken care of as well. And indeed, contrary to recommendation of his supporters, who had voted for their immediate execution, Rhaegar had dismissed their proposal and instead had chosen to invite the captured lords and speak to his allies and enemies as a whole. For sure it had taken his whole courage and strengths since Rhaegar had finally chosen to reveal the true background of the rebellion.

This included likewise the mysterious relationship he shared with the captured Lady Lyanna Stark. A lady who, in truth, had not been taken prisoner at all but whom instead Rhaegar had fallen in love with - an open secret a large part of the crown´s supporters had already been convinced of since the tourney of Harrenhal. However such a epiphany surely had made quite the surprise to the brother of the stolen Lady, as well as Lord Arryn, not to mention that the lady had additionally fallen in love with the prince in return. This revelation had been followed by the further confession that the kidnapping of Lyanna had never been such but had been a planned escape of her own free will instead. In truth, the whole affair even had been known by the late Lord Rickard Stark and had been part of the prince's plan to depose his mad father Aerys Tagaryen from the throne. Due to the fear of a lingering traitor among them, only a very selected number of trusted advisors had been allowed to become initiated into such knowledge. Not even Rhaegar's sworn supporters amongst the court had known more than the rest of the realm and thus were equally taken aback by the farther disclosure that their prince had taken Lady Lyanna for a second wife before the eyes of a heart tree and that she would now reside in Dorne at the Tower of Joy, protected by three members of the King's Guard.

While the conversation had unfolded, it was unmistakable to behold, by the attanding witnesses, the changing complexion of Eddard Stark. Initially growing increasingly paler of shade, his face colour had changed into a rich, almost purple, red when Rhaegar had additionally revealed, on top of everything, that Lyanna was with child. The end of his speech had left a tense and nearly uneasy silence and more than one attandant had to regain his composure first, before he was able to proceed. Being offered an apology, as genuine and considerate as the circumstance would allow, Lord Stark had undergone the following events almost as if in daze.

The prince's persuasion to lay aside lingering disputes between them. His exclamation that the time had come at last to strike against his mad father and restore peace and prosperity to the Seven Kingdoms. And then the nobles` response. Faster than anyone could have assumed, things evolved henceforth. With the forces of the rebellion shattered and most of the crown´s army in their hands, a plan was to be laid out and merely two days after, an army of 40 thousand men had marched towards King's Landing.

And here was it, were the true tragedy should unfold. Hearing of Prince Rhaegar´s betrayal and convinced of his greatest fears coming true, King Aery´s whole madness had shown through. Deep below several parts of the city, Aerys had ordered the guild of the pyromaniacs to store pot after pot of wildfire. At first sight of the prince´s army, and with confirmation of the final betrayal of his former best friend Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock, who then had chosen to end his neutrality and sided with the prince, the city was set ablaze.

How many people had found their death this day, no one could say, but guesses estimated the numbers to be in the thousands. Only fortune had rescued the city that day. Thanks to a mistake done by the pyromaniacs, some amount of pots filled with wildfire had been prevented from exploding. By the graces of the gods even the Red Keep had been able to be rescued from the all consuming flames. Some people, mostly those fortunate enough to not have lost their homes, even held the opinion that it had to be by the will of the gods alone that Kings Landing was still standing. Though the majority had just been lost in their grief and sorrow.

These events had taken place only one month ago, but Eddard Stark still felt the same fury he had the day they occurred. Most of the city laid in ruins and the corpses of the dead piled up to hills that covered whole parts of the city. He wished he could just turn back time, to when none of this had happened yet. How much he wished it could be this way.

Now he did not only have to mourn for his father and brother, but also for his best friend. Eddard still could not quite believe it, his mind not able to comprehend that he would never see Robert Baratheon again. In the past weeks he had just tried to bury himself in his duties, had tried to hide from his sorrow. But this city and the gods would not let him. After all that he and his family had lost, he had thought they were finally donewith him but, again, the gods seemed to think they ought to teach him otherwise.

He did not think his heart could take anymore, that he would have enough strengths to go on, if more were to befall. For so long now, his only wish had been to be lost and buried like so many others had been. But it would not be so. However, he did not know if it were again thanks to the gods, an actual remainder of some unknown strength of his or his own commitment to duty. And there was so much duty ahead of him that he thought he might be drown in it. And since this day another duty had befallen him. The day the gods saw fit to steal his beloved sister from him. To further reduce the once so proud family of the Starks.

Even the view of the city was easier to bear than to think of the events which had transpired only a few hours ago. How much she had begged for forgiveness. How much she had cried. _Promise me,_ had been her last words. He would never forget them nor how much her death chamber had smelled of the blue winter roses of the north and her blood. During war, he had been convinced, he had become used to its smell and to the thought of men dying, but he had yet to realize that there would never be a war which could have prepare him for the death of his sister.

He had knelt beside her and had taken her hand into his, begged her to fight. But every strength had abandoned her. The last of her energies spent to make sure that her last wish would be fulfilled. By both of them, since Eddard had not been the only one who had been kneeling at her death bed and holding unto her hand. Not the only one who could not bear the thought of losing her. It was the very same man, who stood now in the room with him, looking like the stranger come alive.

Rhaegar´s face was pale, devoid of every drop of blood. His hands trembling and his gaze lost into nothingness. Its cause evoked not only by the wound Robert had inflicted on him during their fight but by a wound more terrible than any earthly weapon could ever hope to accomplish. A wound caused due to the volatile loss of one´s beloved, not only Lyanna´s but Elia´s and the young princess` as well. However, Eddard could not afford to feel sorry for him.

The princesses had tried to flee along with the three-year-old Prince Aegon. But Aerys, enveloped by his madness and rage at his son´s betrayal, had foiled their escape. Not even reigned in by the fact that they were his own family, Aerys had ordered the execution of his own son´s wife and children. At a last revenge and farewell gift for the new king . In the end, Elia and her daughter had been killed at the feet of the Iron Throne, straight in front of the eyes of Prince Aegon. It was only at the last moment that Ser Jamie of the King´s Guard had been able to rescue the young prince before he, too, could have fallen to the sword of his mad grandfather.

Only after the bulk of the fire had been extinguished, the prince and his guard had been able to enter the Red Keep, where they had been confronted with the corpses of the dead princesses. The scene had left all of them speechless. Ned, who had accompanied them at that time had wondered mildly, if there had ever been someone before who had been greeted by the sight of a completely speechless Prince Rhaegar. The new king had been shocked into stillness, not able to comprehend what reality had gifted him with. His grief at the edge of beating down the princer, the duty of removing their corpses had fallen unto him, as much as such duty would fill him up with reknown disgust and fury. He had ordered the men to remove the corpses and had called for surviving members of the Silent Sisters to start the rites for their funeral.

Three days later, the corpses had been given to the flames, the farewell ritual lending Rhaegar the strengths to come to his senses. After the catastrophe, the people had needed someone to lead and, at least in this, Rhaegar could give them support. The clearing up operations and first plans of reconstructions had started and, shortly after, Rhaegar had been acknowledged as king, though his coronation had been be postponed to a later date.

Following the example of the royal capital, the rest of Westeros had started to rebuild the damage done by the war. Rhaegar had sent men to Storm´s End to finally lift its siege and to make peace with his former enemies. Eddard, Lord Arryn and several other lords who had fought for Robert, had been pardoned. And Rhaegar, he had spoken, in his first public address after the destruction of Kings Landing, about making peace with his enemies in order to finally heal the wounds of the war and the sufferings inflicted in their country through years of the reign of King Aerys.

And then, three weeks later, Eddard, at last, would see his sister again. The whole time he had thought about it, of how it would be to see her again, now that so much stood between them. Up to the last moment, he had not know which emotion would predominate him, when he would see her. The anger or the relief to know her safe? Since learning about the true background of the war, he had felt as if he could burst from fury and disappointment. He did not even know who it was he was furious with. Rhaegar for keeping his secrets? Lyanna for just vanishing with the prince? His father for not trusting his sons with the truth? Or maybe even Brandon, King Aerys or Robert? He did not know.

But all his thoughts of being angry with Lyanna, vanished when he saw her arriving in King´s Landing. First of all, he had noticed the huge belly she had sported, secondly he had gotten aware how pale and thin she had become. Yet none of that had kept her from throwing herself into his arms at first sight, or from kissing Rhaegar passionately. As soon as she let go of them, she had turned to Eddard in a manner, which was as calm as possible, a complete contrast from her earlier behaviour. With tears in her eyes, she had spoke of their father and brother and how she thought herself at fault for what had happened with them, of how she had never assumed that Brandon would do something as rash as demanding the death of the Crown Prince, right under the eyes of the king.

Eddard remembered how both he and Rhaegar had immediately tried to calm her down. And, for the first time, he had recognized just how much the prince seemed to love his sister. He had spoke with so much affection in his voice, that no one could doubt the nature of their feelings for one another. At that moment, he had begun to feel hope once again. But only a few days later, this hope, along with anything else, had been crushed. He still had not been able to deal with the fact that his little sister, of whom he always thought of as the wild she-wolf of his home, was with child, the child of the crown prince, now king of the Seven Kingdoms, when she went into labour.

She had already looked ill due to a malady she had suffered from since the message of the death of her father and brother had arrived, but during birth, the last drops of colour had abandoned her face, she had started trembling and sweating and crying in pain. The latter, he thought while he remembered the last hours of his sister´s life, had been the worst. To hear someone as brave and strong as his sister crying in pain. When he was a child, and Lyanna even younger, she had hit her knee such that it had to be stitched. Not once had she cried.  
Through the whole torture, he had stayed and held her hand, so too had Rhaegar. After long hours, she had finally given birth. It had been the only moment something akin to strength had returned to her eyes, and for the few seconds she could hold her new-born babe, she looked happy and as young as she truly was. Shortly after, the exhaustion and blood loss had atken her life and Visenya Tagaryen had lost her mother.

All this had happened just a few hours ago but still Eddard Stark could not think of it as something that had truly happened. He could not understand it. Could not comprehend such wide reach in the cruelty of the gods.

The babe that had just been born at the cost of his sister´s life, had hair of a deep dark brown. Visenya´s eye colour, he did not know, but even then, he had heard that a babe´s eye colour, at first, always was some shade of dark blue. But he could still say that she was a beautiful babe despite of her new-born status. Any child of Lyanna’s would be.

It was this consideration that made him recognize that there was still something, he could be grateful for. No matter how cruel the world had become, how much pain he had to endure, he was still able to love a child. No, he would not hate the little baby-girl. He would not. What Rhaegar thought about her, however, he was left to assume.

He had still not moved, not once since they had entered the room. Where Rhaegar had gone after he and the maester, who had assisted during the birth but had been unable to save Lyanna, had forced his hand out of Lyanna´s lifeless one, he did not know. He himself had been too lost in his grief to care, but just half an hour ago he had been ordered to this room to speak with the prince. He guessed it was the room the small council usually met.

Neither of them knew how to start. It was the second time Eddard was to witness Rhaegar's decline into speechlessness. Few minutes passed and the tension between them grew thicker and thicker, so much, that he almost believed he would choke on it. He never thought that he would be the first to speak, for him there was nothing more to say, but the growing tension eventually forced him to.

"I will take Lyanna back to the north. It is where she belongs." For the first time Rhaegar looked up, though it did not seem as if he had even understood what Eddard had said just moments ago.

"Lyanna." Rhaegar´s voice sounded hollow and tired. He did not continue.

"I will bring her home.", he repeated. Now, Rhaegar seemed to understand.

"You will not take her from me." Suddenly he sounded stronger, albeit still hoarse, and a smattering of strength showed in his eyes. The dragon was not buried, yet.

"She would have wanted to. She never could say _good_ _bye_ to any of her family aside from me, could never say _good bye_ to her father and brother. She deserves to, at least, rest beside them. She is a Stark and the Starks belong in the North. " Now more than ever, he thought.

"She was my wife. She belonged to me!", His voice rose. "Will you try to steal my daughter as well?!"

What would he say? Visenya was the only thing in the world left of his little sister, of Lyanna. How could he leave her last remainder at a place, she did belong as little as her mother had? And, of course, he knew of men who could not bear to even look at the child that killed their wife. He only had to think of Tywin Lannister. "I would never steal a child which is loved by its family", he said gravely. He looked up to see the prince straight in the eyes.

"And, do you think, Lord Stark, that I could not love my child? The only thing in the world that will remain of... Lyanna?" At the end of the sentence the prince´s voice broke and his hands started trembling, again. Though this time not only due to sorrow but fury as well. "Do you think, you are the only one that has lost someone? Visenya is my daughter, and my daughter she will remain. No matter what you think of me. You cannot hate me more than I do myself." was

Fury, cold and uncontrolled broke its way. "Is that what you believe?" His voice sounded like ice. Fire rose in Rhaegar´s eyes.

"Do not dare, Lord Stark...do not dare to presume you would know anything of me." But Eddard would not bow.

"No, you are right, Your Grace, I do not know you. But I know that your secrets are to blame for the death of my father, my brother, a man who was my brother in all but blood, Lyanna and everyone else who died in that bloody war! You are at fault. You could have prevented it but you did not and now the whole realm has to pay for it!", he cried.

"Have I not lost? Elia is dead. Lyanna. Rhaenys. I know what pain means, my Lord. Have I not tried what I could to bring peace to this realm!?", Rhaegar cried back and Eddard had to laugh.

"Peace? If you call this peace, I do not want to know what you understand of war, Your Grace. But I can tell to you this, that this is not what a anysane man would understand as peace."

"Do you think me mad then? That I wanted this war? That I am like my father!?" Something dangerous shown in the prince´s eyes.  
"Are you not?" He knew that it was probably unwise of him to compare Rhaegar to the man who just killed his wife and daughter but it did not matter. The only important matter now was his fury.

At that moment, the prince was so furious he could not even say a word and Eddard wondered if this was the moment Rhaegar would reconsider his pardon, especially now that Lyanna was dead. But it did not matter what the Prince had intended to say since the door was suddenly opened. Both looked up to see who had interrupted them and saw Lord Arryn striding through the door.

"Your Grace," he bowed towards Rhaegar "Ned."

"What do you want, Lord Arryn?" Rhaegar´s voice was much less charming than usual and he did not even try to dissemble how uninterested he was in anything Lord Arryn had to say.

"I do not want to presume to give you any unwanted advice, Your Grace, but still, I do not reckon shouting at one of your Lord Paramounts will help you in securing the realm. The same is true for you, Ned." While Rhaegar did not look the least disturbed, Ned could not avoid feeling as though he were a child again. He did not think that this would change any time soon.

"And what would you suggest we should do instead, Lord Arryn?" His voice held now his known calm tone, again.

"I know you now bear a great burden, especially after the recent tragedies and I can assure you of my deepest regrets, but this will nevertheless not change that you have to bear them. It is a time to show strengths if you want to prevent the realm from falling apart. The time for grief will come, Sire," shortly a hint of his own grief showed on his face" but it cannot be now. Nor is now the time for accusations. On both sides mistakes were made, I can guarantee you. When one is as old as me, one sees the need to stop antagonizing your enemies. If you want to reach this same age you better stop with it now, too."

His focus shifted to his former forsterling "Ned, I also know what you have gone through but you will not change anything by fighting your king. You, too, have now a responsibility you cannot run from. Your wife, your son and the whole North will count on you and your strengths."

Suddenly Lord Arryn appeared older than Eddard had ever seen him. And he knew, that if any other had said the things that were said in the last minute he probably would not have listened. But he knew that Lord Arryn knew what he spoke of, he also had experienced great tragedy in the past with the death of his wives and children and had shown great strengths in protecting his wards after Aerys had demanded their heads.

Rhaegar, too, seemed to remember that, and a bit of the tension in his stature left. " You are...right, Milord. I seem to have...forgotten." Instead of angry, the prince´s voice now sounded tired and full of grief, again. Eddard, too, lost most of his sudden anger, which was soon replaced by sorrow. In his fury, he had not given a single thought to his responsibilities, not only to the North but to his Lady-wife, Catelyn, and to his just two-months-old son Robb.

"We all have our duties and, as the King of our kingdom, my greatest responsibility is to its people. Therefore, we will hold a council to decide how we will proceed. Milord Arryn, Lord Stark, since you are among the ones of greatest importance and insight I will demand your appearance. Since I am momentarily without a hand, additionally I will ask of you, Lord Arryn, to support me in this service until I decide otherwise." With each sentence more of the sorrow vanished from the prince´s voice and he became more the man Eddard remembered from the tourney of Harrenhal. Though there was still one point, which could not be discussed later but had to be taken care of, now.

"What will become of Visenya?", he asked the prince, yet took care to abstain from sounding accusing. This time the prince did not seem to be insulted by the question. He looked up and met his gaze measuredly.

"I know that in your eyes I have lost any deference I once might have hold and that, through my deeds I am to blame for all the suffering your family was forced to endure. I wish it could have been circumvented and that, one day, I will get the chance to regain the respect I have lost today."

In the prince's eyes Eddard detected true sorrow and his voice was heavy with gravely regret. "But I promise you, on my name and blood, that my daughter, Lya´s daughter, will be loved and that, as long as I live, I will allow no harm to befall her. You have my word, My lord."

Eddard was still not content with the situation regarding his niece but he knew, he could not take the child from her rightful father and, in truth, he did not want to, either. Nevertheless, the fear of what might yet to come remained, but, at the moment, he was just too tired to keep fighting.

"I understand."

"I will also allow you to take Lyanna North. You are right. The North is her home and it is the place she always wanted to go back to.” Albeit the prince had not shown his emotions during the last minutes, at the mention of Lyanna he was again able to hear the pain that the thought of her caused him.

"I thank you, Sire." It was the only thing that was left to say. With the allowance of the prince, Jon Arryn left the room. Ned started to follow him, when he was once again stopped by Rhaegar.

"Before...," he did not finish the sentence, "She always said that when she was a child, she wanted to call her daughter Lyarra, after your mother." Ned nodded and left the room.


	2. The King is dead. Long live the King.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realm of the Seven Kingdoms is again confronted with new challenges and Lord Jon Connington makes his move. For the better or worse of Westeros?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To prevent any confusion, in this story Aegon´s and Rhaeny´s position is changed so that Aegon is the older one of the siblings. So far that will be the only greater change to the canon story. Only later there will be another one. But do not worry, it will not be a drastic one. Additionally I hope the chapter will not dissappoint you.;)

Jon Connington

For the fifth time in the last few minutes, Jon Connigton ran his hand through his hair, earning him naught but to make him look more desperate and messy. Jon could not care less, not when the kingdom was on the brink of collapse and it seemed that the realm was destined for chaos regardless what he did. When the greatest man Westeros had ever seen, the only man able to lead this kingdom to greatness, was now dead.

Just to answer his dark thoughts, the bells of the sept of Baelor started ringing in the far distance. The sept had been one of the few buildings in the city that had not been destroyed during mad King Aerys campaign. Still it was believed a sign of hope for the peolpe in King's Landing, a silent answer that the gods had not yet abandoned them.

For Jon, the sept meant less than nothing. Had he not lost faith in the gods years ago, then this would be the final stroke. How could any god, new or old, it did not matter, allow for someone as great and noble as Rhaegar Tagaryen - their silver prince - to die? And by an infection caused by the wound of the scum of a traitor, Robert Baratheon, no less.

Robert had been nothing. Merely a stupid boy having the audicity to believe he could claim something that did not belong him. In whatever place his soul might rest now, Jon hoped for it to be in the greatest and most terrible of hells. A hell shared with him by that bitch Lyanna Stark. If not for her, Jon knew for certain, Rhaegar would still be alive. At least the bitch was dead as well. It was nothing less than what she deserved. _Might she and Robert forever rot together_.

The bells rang once more, their unnerving din heard throughout the whole town. It pained his ears and heart and yet he had to endure. For centuries tradition demanded that when the king died, the bells would chime to announce his passing. They had rung for Aegon I and they had rung Jaehaerys the councilator. And now they did their due to Rhaegar, a man destined to be the greatest of them all. It was his right. _His final right_.

The masses ought to know that their king was dead as he ought to be reminded of his everlasting failure. Months prior, when Rhaegar had retrieved him from the banishment Aerys had punished him with after his failure during the battle of the bells, he had thought that now was the time to strike. That eventually the time had come to help his prince leading Westeros to glory. He had even been able to forget about his shame accompanying him ever since his unholy failure against Stark and Baratheon. Now, it seemed as if a livetime had passed.

As the bells resumed their chime, the shame only cut deeper. _Mayhaps, the gods yet exist, _he reflected humourlessly. Who else would torture him with such a cruel irony? Reminding him of the battle of bells while he was forced zu listen to the bells announcing the death of his best friend.

Everything had happened so fast. He tried to convince himself that it was not his fault, that no one could have done anything to prevent the king's death. Every help had been far too late, that the maesters had said. The infection had already spread too far and neither the deepest of prayers nor the aid of the best of maesters could have changed Rhaegar's fate.

_But are you truly free of guilt?_, an insistend voice whispered, oddly reminiscent of Aerys'._ If only you had demonstrated Rhaegar more often and insistently that you were worth his trust, that you would never betray him like everyone else. Maybe then Rhaegar would have divulged how deep the wound had truly been to you. And he would still be alive. _Forcefully, he shoke his head.

Perhaps, a small part of him thought, it was only fitting the way Rhaegar had died. His whole life he had been shrouded in mystery, had he collected secrets like others might scars. Rhaegar should die as he had lived. Buried in secrets. Jon clenched his hands to fists.

Now, with the king dead and the new one little more than a babe, the kindoms would need someone with an iron fist if they wanted to prevent the realm from falling apart. With no one of the royal family alive who could take the responsibility since the dowager Queen Rhaella had just died two months ago during the birth of the newest Princess Daenerys and had been a woman anyway, that left the royal children only. Seven-years-old Prince Viserys, almost four-years-old crown Prince Aegon and the babes Princess Visenya and Daenerys.

The question now would be, who would take the task of ruling the realm until young Prince Aegon would come of age. Since half of the realm had proven that it was not to be trusted, there were not many possibilities left. The Tyrells were too much of an upstart house. And, anyway, its leader, Mace Tyrell, seemed to be an idiot completely controlled by his mother, the Queen of Thorns, Olenna Tyrell.

The Martells did not reveal an option, either. Aegon might be their nephew but the Dornish, with their unholly way of life, were not to be trusted and, if Elia Martell was anything to go by, you could not count on them to fulfil their duty. The only task Elia Martell had had to accomplish, had been to provide children for his prince but she had not even managed that, or at least not well enough. Otherwise, Rhaegar never would have looked for a second wife to bear him more children, the true reason Rhaegar had been interested in Lyanna Stark.

Jon would not believe the rumours that Rhaegar had been in love with that unruly girl. When he had returned from his exile and had met his prince after her death for the first time, Rhaegar had not behaved any different than usually, except for the tiredness which seemed to drown him since he had taken up his new responsibilities.

Then there were the Lannisters. But Tywin Lannister entertained just too ambitious of aims. He could not be trusted, the risk to high, that he would refuse to cede his reign as soon as Aegon would come off age. He was not even sure if Tywin would had come to aid the prince had he not been absolutely certain that the prince could actually win against his father. Jon might even guess, that if it had been Robert who had returned victoriously from the Trident, Tywin Lannister would have supported him instead. He never could forgive Aerys the humiliation of the rejection of his daughter, the beautiful young Lady Cersei.

After Aery´s death and the death of Princess Elia and the wolf-girl, Tywin had, again, asked for a marriage between Rhaegar and his daughter but, again, the prince had rejected the offer, at least for a while until the realm would be in balance once more . That choice of his had been the only thing Jon had thought stupid of Rhaegar to do, since it would deepen the loyalty of the West and guarantee Rhaegar further heirs, this time without having a polygamous marriage, which was still considered as scandalous by many of the commoners and of the nobility as well.

But with Rhaegar now dead, the possibility of a marriage between these two houses had been buried, at least until one of the royal children would be old enough for a marriage.  
This observation left Jon with only one option, namely that the only one who was capable and trustworthy enough to take up the duty of leading the realm in the name of their new king, would be he himself. Jon Connington.

Yes, he knew, there were also the Velaryons to consider, but these days they were reduced to nothing more than one of the minor houses and had not cultivated closer relationships with the royal house for many generations while Jon had been a close friend of the prince and had even served as right hand of the king for a while. And the only reason Aerys had exiled him had been due to his deranged mental state.

With these thoughts in mind he awaited the arrival of the other lords whom he had ordered to meet with him in the chamber of the small council. The first to arrive was Jon Arryn, still the temporary hand, something Jon would change as soon as he had taken control.

Secondly arrived the Grand Maester Pycelle, who had begun his loyal service at the times of Rhaegar's grand-grandfather Aegon the fifth. With him came the Lords Valeryon, the master of ships and Mace Tyrell. A few minutes later Varys, the spider, a disgusting eunuch who Connington despised from the very beginning and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Sir Gerold Hightower entered the room, also accompanied by the Dornish Prince Oberyn Martell, who had worn an angry mask on his face, ever since he had arrived in King's Landing and had learnt of his sister´s and niece´s deaths.

The only one left, was probably also the most dangerous. The master of law, Lord Tywin Lannister. He just entered several minutes after the last member of the council had arrived. At least one lord of every loyal region, except for Lord Arryn was now present. The lords which had been pardoned by Rhaegar, Jon Connington had decided, would not have any say in this matter especially since Eddard Stark, Stannis Baratheon and Hoster Tully were not in the city. The first had already returned home months ago and the other two had not even dared to come near the city.

After Tywin Lannister was finally seated, Jon decided to start.

“Rheagar is dead. Hence it is now up to this council to direct the fortunes of the realm. Though before we continue, I have to announce the last will of the king, by which he determined that I will take the position of the Lord Protector and Regent until his son, the new King Aegon Tagaryen, comes of age.”

As soon as he released his words, every lord looked up to display the one or other kind of surprise. Jon was even able to distinguish a small flicker in the eyes of the ever-stoic Lord Tywin. And like he guessed, he did not seem to be pleased. Though, the first one to speak was Lord Mace.

“And how can you claim that, Connington? Do you have any proof of what you say? You should also be reminded that it is Lord Arryn who is acting hand, not you. Yours is only the position of the master of coin and, therefore, you were not even allowed to convene this council.” Lord Mace loked arround just to  
asure himself of the consent with what he had said.

And, indeed, the other lords seemed to agree with his words, but Jon had already expected such.

“And, may I remind you, My Lords, that Lord Arryn is just a temporary hand?" Challenging he draw one eyebrow. "Since I have been the only one to be present when the king died, there is no other witness than myself. As the tidings have probably reached you already, the king has succumbed his wound unexpected and suddenly and, thus, did not have the strengths to formulate a written will, but I can assure you that what I speak is true. And you will also know that I was one of the closest companions of the prince and that he trusted me with his life. Why it is then so absurd a thought to assume that he might have trusted me with his kingdom and the care of his child? King Aegon is already like a son to me.” Indeed, it was quite well-known, how devoted he was to the late king and no one could disagree with this statement but, still, Jon saw doubt in many of the eyes of the present lords.

“We all know of your devotion to the prince, Milord, but it is still very surprising to hear that the king would make you the Lord Protector and Regent. Certainly, there are more experienced men who could take on this duty.” Now, it was Maester Pycelle who spoke, something that surprised Jon. He had thought that the Grand Maester would belong to the few who would not be opposed to the idea of Jon´s position. 

“Surely someone like Lord Tywin, who has acted as hand of the king for so many years, would be better suited.” Somehow, Jon thought it strange that the Grand Maester mentioned Lord Tywin but not Lord Arryn. Or was it just because he, too, did not think he could trust Lord Arryn anymore, after he had betrayed the crown once already?

Luckily, at the mention of Lord Tywin most of the other Lords, especially Prince Oberyn, looked less than pleased.

“Oh, I do not think that only the experience is of importance here, but also the ability to bond with the young king and be able to lead him through such harsh circumstances. We must not forget that the boy has already lost most of his family, his parents no less. Therefore, I might suggest someone who has small children of his own and knows the needs of one.”, Mace Tyrell suggested.

Of course, it did not escape any of the others that Mace Tyrell was momentarily the only one with small children since his wife had birthed him in the last three years another son and daughter. Three-years-old Loras and almost two-years-old Magaery.

Jon could discern that the thought of Mace Tyrell being Lord Protector of the realm was, for most of them, less frightening then seeing Tywin Lannister in this position, but still not a solution they would be content with.

With that the only option left, would be that the Dornish take control of the realm or Lord Velaryon. The idea that Lord Arryn, or any of the lords who had sided with Robert Baratheon, would be, on top of everything, rewarded for their betrayal, was abhorrent.

Since the Dornish were Dornish, they were out of the question, no matter how close their relationship with the royal house might be. thus it was up to him or Lord Velaryon. But here Jon knew he had already won, since it would otherwise look as if the council sought to undermine the supposed last will of their king. If they were to decide between someone as him and Lord Tywin, Jon could have never counted on their support, since he was just some minor Lord, the Lord of the Griffin´s Roost. But between him and Lord Valeryon, it would be the choice between green and green, allowing for the very real possibility that Connington could garner the greater support, thanks to his close relationship with the late king. Additionally, most would consider him easy to influence, due to his young age.

He could see the same thoughts rising in his opponent's minds and, after several seconds of uneasy tension, Lord Tyrell added hesitantly.

”But if it had been the last wish of the king, that Lord Connington would take the position of the Lord Protector and Regent, I do not see any reason to oppose it.” While no one, least of all Tywin Lannister, was pleased with the idea of answering to some lord of such an unimportance, they could do nothing about it at the moment and, therefore, were forced to agree with the statement of Mace Tyrell.

Although he had already known how this meeting would end, Jon could not say that he was not relieved.

“Since we have taken care of the matter of who will take up the burden of ruling the realm in the name of our new king, I vote we aught continue with further matters. First of all, I would like to thank you, Lord Arryn, for your services as hand, but I think that the time has come for you to return to your duties as the Lord Paramount of the Vale.” Whilst saying that, he made it his task to to observe Lord Arryn's reaction in detail, thus he was able to catch the hint of anger swelling behind his eyes at the disrespectful dismission of his services.

However, Lord Arryn just bowed and left the chambers, as, without his status as hand of the King, he was not allowed to participate in the meetings of the small council. Now, it was only the Dornish Prince, Oberyn Martell, whom remained without belonging officially to the small council. As the uncle and only family member present of the king, he would be impossible to kick out.

Actually, he was a little bit surprised to have heard nothing of the prince, yet. Since his entrance he had remained silent in the background, a behaviour which was mostly unheard of from the prince. He just regarded everything with his dark Dornish eyes and an odd expression in his face, that Jon could not fathom. Though he seemed to looking at Lord Tywin more intently then anyone else. But Jon had far more important things to do, than to consider the strange behaviour of an even stranger prince.

“Next, I would like to settle how is to proceed with the traitors of the crown, especially the Lords Eddard Stark, Hoster Tully, Stannis Baratheon and Jon Arryn.”, Jon continued in a harsh voice.

“I understood it that the kings had pardoned them, particularly due the circumstances of the late Queen Lyanna being the sister of Lord Stark.”

At the mention of the girl, Jon felt a cool wave of anger sweep through him. To think of this bitch as a Queen, when she had been in truth little more than a whore, he thought angrily. In an even angrier and cooler tone he continued. “However, this does not mean that just because the king refrained from demanding their heads, he never intended to punish them for their treason. Since the Lords Arryn, Stark and Stannis Baratheon had personal matters which induced them in their rebellion against the crown and the Tullys are bonded to the Starks and Arryns through marriage, he had decided against removing them from their position as Lord Paramounts, not wishing to deepen the wounds their rebellion had already caused the realm. The only exception will be the Baratheons. They will lose their position and will be substituted. Furthermore, there will be taxes and other limitations which will befall on them but I think that these details can be considered on another council meeting.” Jon concluded.

“And what is to be done with the houses which remained loyal to the crown? Certainly King Rhaegar had planned to reward those loyal to him.” Mace Tyrell asked, in a voice befitting that of an insulted child.

Trust one as him to be so unsubtle and openly greedy, thought Jon, while not missing the excitement which rose in the eyes of the other present Lords as well. The only one who did not show any hints was Lord Tywin.

“Of course those houses will be rewarded. The crown is not ungrateful and knows of the needs which have befallen most of you, especially after the cost you had to pay during the rebellion of the usurper.”

Although Jon knew that it was always smart to praise someone’s subordinate and also legitimate from Lord Tyrell to expect a reward, he thought it a little bit bold to ask for it so openly, especially after he had already garnered a place in the small council. But at least that was something he could use. “And you all, will surely agree with me, that this will better be discussed in private.” Jon offered Lord Tyrell a strict look.

“Of course, of course, Milord. So which aspects we will examine next?” As soon as he was sure of further rewards, Lord Mace´s voice sounded again as lively as if he was visiting some noble event.

“I would be interested in what will be done with the children, as none of them is old enough to take an active role at the court.” Prince Oberyn asked in a calm manner.

“I am sure you will agree that the king must stay in King's Landing, so that he can be prepared to take up responsibilities as king.” Jon answered cooly. At this, the face of the prince darkened.

“My brother, the Prince of Dorne, would wish the king to be raised in Dorne alongside his family. The same would be true for my niece Rhaenys, but since she died, this will not be possible anymore. But it serves to further deepen the importance of Aegon’s need to have his family around.” At the mention of the Princess Rhaenys the eyes of the viper took an even darker tone and his voice sounded suddenly more angry and threatening.

“And how would you know what your brother might wish when the king has only just died, Prince Oberyn?” This time it was Lord Velaryon who spoke.

The face of Mace Tyrell was soon infused with an expression of surprise ,which turned fast into indignation.

“Yes! How could you know that, Prince Oberyn?” he asked in a tone full of accusation.

One did not have to be a genius to understand the meaning behind his words. The prince, too, caught the meaning and his expression turned more furious.

“How dare you to accuse Dorne of treason, when your own forces hardly fought and just awaited the ending of the siege of Storm´s End, while Dornish troops died for the Tagaryen dynasty!?” It seemed that the prince was ready to pounce on the Lord of the Reach.

The facial colour of Lord Tyrell turned bright red.

“My army did nothing?! And which forces were it who fought and won next to the king´s against those of the usurper? I do not remember any mention of the Dornish there.”

Suddenly the prince´s expression turned amused and he said in a tone full of smugness, sporting a smirk on his face.

“If I remember correctly it was Lord Randyl Tarly who lead the forces, not you.”

“They...they were my soldiers, nevertheless. Lord Tarly is one of my vassals.” Lord Mace stuttered and turned further red.

At this, the smile on the prince’s lips only widened.

“Makes someone think, does it not?” his voice turned cold at the end of the question.

Lord Tyrell´s face, which was furiously red, now paled rapidly.

“What are you meaning to imply?”

Before Prince Oberyn could answer and further provoke Lord Tyrell, an icy and harsh sounding voice interrupted them.

“Enough.” Everyone turned to the speaker. Lord Tywin had risen from his chair and hit the table before him with his tightly closed fist. Here, Jon could distinguish a flicker of disgust on his visage.

“If you want to behave like children you will treated like ones, but this will also mean you can now leave this chambers and give up on your positions as members of this council.” To each of the men he was speaking to, he sent an austere gaze. While Mace Tyrell shrank under the look, Oberyn Martell did not seem to be intimidated in the least.

“And what of you, Lord Tywin? How far does your loyalty reach?” The prince´s voice surely could rival Lord Tywin´s icy tone.

“What do you mean, Prince Oberyn?” His looked seemed to want to cut straight through the prince.

“Just that it happened to be your son, Ser Jamie, who was tasked with the protection of my sister Elia and her daughter, the Princess Rhaenys.”

The Lord Commander Gerold Hightower stepped forward.

“Prince Oberyn, I assure you, Ser Jamie is free of any guilt as far as the deaths of Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys are concerned. The only one to be blamed is Aerys; nor ought you to forget that it had been Ser Jamie who rescued Prince Aegon.” Ser Gerold spoke without harshness but strictly. “I myself questioned Ser Jamie at the time, and I am convinced that he did everything a member of the King's Guard could have done.”

“I have not forgotten that it was Ser Jamie who rescued Aegon, nor have I forgotten that you were not there.” The accusation was unmistakable and the face of Sir Gerold hardened.

“We were where our king had ordered us to be.” Again, the prince smirked, but this time it was a sneer filled by bitterness.

“Yes, at the Tower of Joy, protecting this Stark-girl.”

“I understand your grief, Prince Oberyn, but be careful whom you speak of. This Stark-girl had been your rightful Queen.”, Ser Gerolt said. At least in this aspect, though, he sided with the prince. Jon, too, had a very low opinion of that girl and could well understand the Martell Prince´s feelings of resentment.

“Ah, yes, Rhaegar’s little queen. Though I still wonder how he could even take a second one since he was already married to my sister.” Once more, fury flashed in his eyes.

This time, Lord Velaryon spoke up.

“Since it seemed that the late Princess Elia could not bear Prince Rhaegar any further children, he decided to marry a second time without disposing the Princess Elia. And, there seemed to be a possibility to make an exception, the prince found in an old book about the laws of marriage. Additionally, the prince married Elia in the sept of Baelor before the eyes of the new gods, while his marriage to Lyanna was held before a heart tree of the old gods.” Although this delivered was as an explanation meant for Prince Oberyn, it did not seem to make him any happier. In contrast, his face darkened further.

“So that means that the king and the Lady Lyanna were not actually married, if they were not declared man and wife before the new gods?” Lord Mace asked.

“You forget, my Lord, that in the North every vow of marriage is taken before the old gods and they are all seen as legitimate.” Lord Velaryon answered.

Although Jon would wish nothing more than to disagree with him, he could not deny the truth, so he decided the end this topic.

“Milords, Prince Oberyn, if we have now cleared this, I would like to go back to King Aegon. Like I mentioned, I consider it the wisest if the king grows up here in King's Landing and if Prince Doran wishes to see him, I am sure we can arrange a lasting stay for him. If I remember correctly, the prince has not been seen in King's Landing for years.”

Of course, Jon had heard of the worsened gout which befell the ruling Prince of Dorne and, therefore, was aware that such a journey would be nigh impossible or, at least, very exhausting and painful for Prince Doran.

Jon did not need the intervention of any Dornish, who would just would twist the king with their strange and unholy culture, and it seemed that Prince Oberyn understood that message. He threw back his chair, got up and left the room with a face twisted in fury.

For a moment, no one said anything, then Maester Pycelle finally took the word, again.

“As King Aegon will stay in Kings Landing, Milord, what do you plan on doing with the other children? Surely they should keep the king comp...” He interrupted the Maester.

“ I plan for the Prince Viserys and the Princesses Deanerys, to stay on Dragonstone. A King´s duty is to his people, but Viserys and Deanerys are just children and, at the moment, are not needed in the city. In addition, I do not think it would be healthy for the young princess to travel on sea.”

Although not everyone seemed to be absolutely convinced of this plan, no one spoke up to disagree with, at least, until Lord Tywin said his piece.

“What of the Princess Visenya?” No, Jon had not forgotten her, though he had hoped this little bastard could be ignored and forgotten. This way, the spawn of Lyanna Stark could maybe be given to the silent sisters and he would not have to deal with her anymore, but he had come to know differently.

“She will not only be a princess, but the sister of the king no less. I would offer her to be warded at Casterly Rock. My sister would keep good care of her and as my family often takes in wards of other great houses, she would not be among less of noble birth than in the Red Keep.”, he said, not revealing anything.

Jon wondered if Lord Tywin thought that he was stupid. As if he did not know what Lord Tywin truly intended. With a princess as ward, he could increase his influence tenfold while also holding a possible hostage against the crown. It did not matter that, in Jon´s mind, the bastard could die and he would not shed a single tear for the girl; it would undoubtedly matter for the reputation of the crown if it was said that they could not protect its own children.

Though he actually considered if this would also be right in case of this child, he had already heard rumours surrounding the girl, which said that it had been her ill-fated existence which had caused the war. He could confess, without remorse, that he belonged with those who thought this. So, yes, he would not cry one tear for this child if anything aught to befall her.

“I thank you for your offer, Lord Tywin, but I think, it is for the best if the girl remained in King's Landing. We must not forget that the Rebels might still want to strike, but if we would hold the niece of Lord Stark a hostage, they would have to consider any move against the crown twice.”

Again, Lord Tywin did not show any sign of anger nor a sign of some other emotion. If he felt insulted by Jon's refusal, he would never know. However, he could guess, he had to feel that way, were the Lannisters not know for their lack of pride.

Instead of Tywin, another showed a sign of anger. Lord Velaryon.

“I do hope, you do not see the princess simply as a hostage, Milord. She is still a princess of old valyrian blood and a legitimate daughter of King Rhaegar. The people would not like it if any inappropriate treatment were to befall the princess.” Lord Velaryon looked expressionless but spoke with a firm and strict voice, in which Jon could detect a hint of a threat.

Also, the Lord Commander of the Kings Guard, Gerold Hightower, he registered, looked at him with dark eyes and a serious expression. Now, Lord Tyrell seemed to understand as well and blinked shocked at Jon´s direction.

“You surely do not meant to imply that you...” he started but was again interrupted by Jon. For an instance he could glimpse a small smile flittering over Lord Tywin´s face.

“Of course, I was not implying anything, Milords, you have misunderstood me.", he gestured reassuringly. "The princess will be treated as it befits her status. I only wanted to remark the importance of having at least the appearance that any kind of further rebellious behaviour will not be without consequences.”

In silence, he cursed himself for showing how much he despised the brute of Lyanna, especially after seeing the looks on the face of Velaryon and Sir Gerold. Their gazes told him that his answer had not convinced them.

“Naturally, this is something to be considered. How smart of you to discover this importance, Milord Connington.” Jon, as much as any other lords around, except maybe for Lord Tywin, got a fright when, suddenly, the oily voice of Varys echoed through the chamber. The spider had fallen in the background and kept such an unusual silence, that it had caused the rest of the council to to forget his presence entirely.

He still was unsure of what to do with the spider. A deep feeling of disgust almost forced him to demand the spider to be imprisoned in the Black Cells or, even better, to be killed instantly; was he not foolish enough to believe that any cell could hold him for long. However, the fact remained, that Varys was just too bloody useful to just be wasted.

Especially now, in these unholy and difficult times, the realm needed more of information then ever if it wanted to survive and it was no secret that Varys was the best in his profession. Anyway, should Jon decide that Varys had become too much of a danger, he could always be removed.

“You are right, Varys. This is something to consider. At no time has the realm been nearer to its destruction. These are alarming times and every measure must to be considered. So, if we now have settled the question how to deal with the royal children, I think we can finish topic and continue on with the preparation of the king's funeral.”

* * *

After the exhausting council was finally concluded, Jon had withdrawn in his new chambers in the Red Keep. The day had been so long and awful and so filled with new events, that he was sure he would still remember it when he was old and grey and had even forgotten his own name.

As so many else of this day it was almost impossible a task to make himself aware of the fact that he now would be the mightiest man in the whole Seven Kingdoms. He also knew that some lesser men would have been crushed under this new responsibility, but not he. Not Jon Connington, the Lord of Griffin´s Host. Who might have guessed that he would, one day, hold such a position? Certainly not him.

Exhausted and torn between contradicting emotions, he chuckled while feeling he was only short of starting to cry. The council meeting had provided with a short retreat of his grief but being only with himself, there was nothing to keep to hollowness caused by Rhaegar's passing at bay.

And he swore to himself that he would not disappoint Rheagar. He would help leading Aegon and the Seven Kingdoms to glory. He would make Rhaegar proud. He could just hope, no one would ever discover that Rhaegar had never named him Lord Protector and Regent of the Seven kingdoms.


	3. A Man of Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the king dead and Lord Connington taking control of the Seven Kingdoms, Jaime Lannister is again in the middle of the Game of Thrones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is as pleasing as the last. By the way I am now supported by a wonderfull beta reader: lisistrataantigona who also helped me improving the first chapters. Thank you very much;)

Ser Jamie

He was just on his way to take his turn of the watch from Arthur and crossing over the inner courtyard, when he recognized the four figures who were standing on the sandy ground of the yard.  
One of them was very small and had fair silver hair that shone bright in the light, so that it was not difficult for Jaime to recognize his young King Aegon, the sixth of his name.

The other three next to the child-king, Jamie recognized as Ser Willam Darry, the elderly master of arms while the other two turned out to be members of the King's Guard like himself, the Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower and Prince Lewyn Martell.

As it seemed they had started another session of sword play for their just recently five-years-old turned king. It was still one of the few sessions, the king had ever had since Lord Connington had decided that King Aegon would now be old enough to start his training.

Therefore, no one was bound to expect seeing anything spectacular from the king, other than childish uncoordinated movements, yet for what he himself had seen so far and what Ser Gerold and Ser Willem Darry had told about the king´s training, he seemed to show some promise.

Moreover, the king seemed to show several promising qualities in different aspects, as well. Maybe the gods actually had decided to finally bestow some mercy on them, since, at the beginning, just shortly after the death of the king´s mother and sister the child had been very secluded and stopped speaking for several weeks, something Jaime was not able to hold this against the boy. Whenever he remembered the occurrences which had led to the deaths of the Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys he thought he might vomit and, even now, the reminder made him shiver and a deep-cutting feeling of guilt and shame overcame him.

Fortunately, this behaviour had only been visible for a short period. Only when Rhaegar had died, too, he had again displayed a similar behaviour but under the care of Lord Connington the king seemed to recover. Thus, if the gods could remain merciful, the realm would not have to suffer a repetition of Aegon III, who had been rendered miserable after the death of his parents and older siblings for the length of his life.

The young king seemed promising, he showed a smart mind, at least so far as a five-year-old could be smart, and he displayed a mostly kind and appropriate behaviour, though the same could not be said for the condition of the realm. Of course, no one could be able to heal the wounds that the rebellion had inflicted on the kingdom in just a couple of years, but, at least, Rhaegar had made some valiant efforts. The same could not be said of the Lord Protector and Regent Lord Connington. So far, his sole achievements had been to not cause a second rebellion and to show true affection towards the king, which probably was actually the main reason the king´s state of mind could still be described as normal.

Sadly Connington´s affection was restricted to the king only. His dislike was specifically directed to the former rebellious lords and, along with them, their regions, be it the North or the Storm Lands. Both had to suffer from high restrictions and taxes much higher than any King Rhaegar had ever considered. Which seemed a little bit absurd, even in Jaime´s mind who had neither the mind nor the ability for ruling. The best way to heal a wounded realm, which had suffered to such a high scale, would be to punish the instigators limitedly and try to deepen their loyalty by marriage to already loyal subordinates, while the loyal lords would be rewarded by the crown.

However, Connington just focused on deepening the punishment and ignored the rewards. The only exception he seemed to make in this direction, had been with himself, since he now was not only Lord Protector and Regent, but the Lord Paramount of the Storm Lands, as well. Just the fact that he punished his own people showed, though, how little Connington actually knew of ruling.

Jaime still remembered when Connington had been declared hand of the king under the reign of the mad King Aerys. Even at that time Jaime thought him a hot-headed fool who had just wanted to prove the world what a hero he was. Not that Jaime had been any better, but at least had known when to show a little restraint, a lesson which had been necessary when he had been forced to witness the terrible treatment Aerys foisted upon his sister-wife every time he had burned another poor soul.

The exile that the former king had punished Connington to after his failure at the battle of the bells had not made him any humbler for Connington´s arrogance and patronizing behaviour continued increasing day by day. In the few months that followed Rhaegar´s death, he managed to pick a fight with almost every member of the small council. Especially, Lord Mace Tyrell, the fat flower, was insulted by the less-than-overwhelming reward the crown had offered the loyalists.

Soon enough, Connington had become tired of most of his council colleges and now, most of the original council members who were installed by Rhaegar shortly after the rebellion, had been replaced by younger and headstrong lord with similar inclinations as the ones of the Lord Protector. The only ones still in it, were those even Connington was not able to replace and the Lord of the Reach.

It came as a great surprise to Jaime to hear that not even his father, the mighty Lord Tywin Lannister, had been safe of the boisterousness of Connington. If anyone had, up to this moment, still believed in any competence that the Lord Protector might possess in ruling, this was the final confrontation with the sad truth.

He had always thought that there was no one in the whole seven kingdoms, that did not know that it would be a very stupid and dangerous thing to do, to fool the humourless Lord of Casterly Rock.  
Though, despite Jaime´s surprise in regards to this matter, he could not surpress the small streak of relieve.

Ever since the fire of King's Landing, Jaime could not bear to even think about his father. Whenever the thought of him should appear in his mind, despite his best efforts, he was filled again with shame. _How could his father...?_ Jaime willed himself to tear his thoughts away from that most unpleasant of issues.

But how could he just ignore what his father had done? Especially if he had sworn...  
He felt the rising anger at himself for not being able to just forget about this. And Cersei! What had she been thinking? Did she know nothing of him? The thought of his sister made him even angrier.

After the terrible occurences in the Red Keep and the city at whole, he had not been able to have any ordinary talk with his father or sister. Most of the time they had just shouted at each other, particularly he and Cersei. _Now, he at least knew how far his family was willing to go in order to fulfil their ambitions_, Jaime thought bitterly.

He remembered how stupid he had felt afterwards. With a family like his, though, he actually had to know better. Nevertheless, he had been unwantedly surprised. That especially Cersei would consider something like that necessary, though, had hurt him the most.

It was solely Tyrion, whom he had confined in. And it had also been his brother who had advised him to keep silent about the whole matter. And Jaime knew it was probably the wisest thing to do since, no matter how much he wanted it, he could not turn back time. He also knew that it was no secret that, of all of Tywin’s children, Jaime certainly was not considered the smartest. This titel had always been held by Tyrion.

Yes, Tyrion might be a dwarf and deformed, but no one had ever doubted his mind. Though, at first, those who did not know him, surely would always underestimate him. It was one of the best examples how outer appearance could be deceiving. The same was true for Cersei, though, if Jaime considered it. Most of the realm thought her to be a beautiful, high-born lady, daughter of the great Tywin Lannister. Raised to be the perfect lady-wife for every lord. Filled with dedication to her duties. Calm and pretty to look at. And while the first part probably was true, he could not honestly say that Cersei was a perfect lady in the sense most of the realm would define one.

Sure, she could play this part gracefully but he knew how much she, in truth, detested the role the gods had determined her for. How often had she told him, she wished to have been born a man, except for the moments they had... Jaime interrupted these thoughts, yet he was always incapable of keeping his thoughts away from his twin.

Cersei had always been good at planning and scheming and certainly thought herself a second Tywin with tits. She was an ambitious character and did not make any secret of it, either. But still, even when he had known this, he had never assumed that his sister might ever do something so truly .... He did not even know how to finish his sentence. He did not to know anything.

Ever since, their relationship had suffered and the gap between them had only deepened after he had refused Lord Connington´s offer. Though his father had even been angrier at him. Even his uncle Kevan and his aunt Gemma had been lost at words with him. The only one who had understood him had, again, been Tyrion. When he told him his reasons for his decision, he had only shrugged and said he should do as he thought right.

After his father had been released from the council, he had asked for a reward from the crown and therefore had demanded for Jaime to be released of his oath to the King´s Guard. Connington had to genuinely consider the Lannister´s as a threat, since he had actually agreed. But in the end, his father´s and Connington´s plans had been crushed when Jaime denied to forego the words he had spoken on that fateful day at Harrenhal.

After his refusal, he himself had wondered about his motives to do so. Though, in the end, it had been easy to figure out his reasoning. He had not been able to rescue Princess Elia and little Rhaenys but he could, at least, take care to minimise the possibility that someone might kill Aegon as well. It was almost ironic, he thought without cheerfulness.

In the end, Lord Tywin had returned to Casterly Rock, twice spurned, together with Cersei and Tyrion, although he had tried to convince his father to let Tyrion stay a little longer since it had been his first time in the capitol. Still angry with him and, because Tyrion was Tyrion, he had forwent his plead, his last words to him that, as a member of the King´s Guard, he would have no need for his family anymore. His father truly could make it known when he was pissed, but Jaime would not give in. Ever since, only Tyrion had sent him letters which told him how life was and of the goings on at Casterly Rock.

Only recently, he had let him know of how father had assigned him the task to take care of the drainage system and how he planned to make it better than ever before. He could only smirk at the memory, he knew his father well enough, to know that Tywin had only tasked his youngest with such an assignment, in order to shame him. Therefore, he could understand Tyrion´s unsaid joke. But what killed his laughter, was what Tyrion told him about Cersei. How it seemed she still attracted admirers like light might a moth.

Even worse, Cersei had not written herself about it. Had not written to him at all. And, at the thought of his beloved sister with a man other than himself, he felt a rush of jealousy run through him. But how would they have been able to uphold their relationship anyway, since if either Robert or Rhaegar would have survived to become King, his father surely would have planned to make them marry Cersei. He just knew that no man would ever be resistant of his sister´s charm, not even Rhaegar, might he even mourn for his dead Queens.

And now, with none of them an option, the throne was far away from his family’s clutches. At least, until Aegon came of age and could marry a Lannister of the younger generation, if possible, a grandchild of Tywin, Cersei would have to look for a husband elsewhere, and as soon as possible, if there should be any grandchildren which could marry King Aegon.

He walked further across the inner courtyard, when he heard someone calling his name.

“Ser Jaime, here to keep us company?” was the question asked by Ser Willam Darry. To his surprise, he realised that, while he had been lost in thoughts, Prince Lewin had disappeared.

“I am sorry to disappoint, but I am afraid I already have other duties to fulfil.”

“What other duties, Ser Jaime?” This time, it was the young king who inquired.

“I am on my way to take over from Ser Arthur. At the moment, he is protecting your little sister.” At his words he saw an expression dart across the child´s face, which Jaime could not quite distinguish.

“Rhaenys is dead, Ser Jaime.” Aegon´s voice was flat. Worried expressions, now, flittered over the faces of Ser Willem and Ser Gerold Hightower. For a moment, he was lost for words.

“I know, your grace. I spoke... about your other sister. The Princess Visenya.” He tried to speak as softly as possible, not wanting to wake any traumatic memories of the king. For several reasons, all of them important.

“Oh, her. You mean my half-sister.” How Aegon stressed the _her_ and added _my half-sister_, left an odd feeling in Jaime´s stomach. By the look of the others, he guessed they felt the same.

“The Princess Visenya is your sister as well as Rhaenys, your grace. And, as her older brother, you have to protect her if someone might want to annoy her.” Ser Willem tried to throw in jocularly and smiled nervously. Now, it was Aegon who looked up with a surprised expression and turned to Sir Willem.

“Why? She is guilty of mother’s, father’s and Rhaeny's deaths.” This shocked Jaime even more, especially when the king spoke with such an honest seriousness in his voice.

“Who told you that, my king?”, asked now the Lord Commander of the King´s Guard with a deep frown between his eyes.

“Jon.”, answered Aegon, not noticing the worry etched on the faces of the three adults that surrounded him.

“Aegon,” This time Sir Willem forewent the king´s title “your sister had not been even born or had just been an infant when all this happened. You are a smart boy and can see that she cannot be guilty of what Lord Connington accuses her of, or do you not agree?”

Now it was Aegon´s time to frown but, after a few seconds, his expression returned to normal and he nodded towards them.

“I am sorry, Sir Willem.”

“There is no reason for apologising, your grace, not even a king can always do everything right and the same is true for Lord Connington. Just be sure that what someone says is true, so that your words will not hurt or insult anyone. This is an important ability for a king you still have to master, but you are also still very young, your grace.”

While Sir Willem seemed to be calmed by Aegon´s words, it did not escape Jaime’s notice the fact that Aegon might have apologised but had never agreed that what he had said had been wrong. The same had to be observed by Sir Gerold Hightower, if his still worried look was anything to go by.

“Can we now continue with the training, Sir Gerold?”, Aegon asked, already forgetting about what was just said.

“I also, think I will be on my way now, or else Arthur might ask where I have been. Your grace,” he bowed shortly towards the King “Sir Willem, Lord Commander.” He nodded and left the courtyard. In the background, he could already hear the next instructions of Sir Willem and the noise from wood on wood.

Normally, a training session with the sword, or even a short talk with the king in the training grounds, did not leave him tense and anxious, but the news that the king did not seem to love, or even like, his little sister was something that left an uneasy feeling within him. Every adult, and even the children, knew of the unholy civil war between the two Tagaryen siblings Rhaenyra and Aegon the second. Their fight for the Iron Throne had caused the extinction of the dragons and the deaths of thousands of people, with none the winner at the end, as both of them had been dead at the conclusion of the so-called dance of dragons.

They could just hope, that in the case of Aegon and Visenya, it would more play out like it had for their namesakes, minus the marriage. The line of succession was already clear with Aegon king, Viserys the heir of Dragonstone and Visenya the younger sister, with an uncle like Eddard Stark, who would more likely move his whole castle to Dorne, than betray his king a second time without legal cause.

On his way to the Maidenvault, where the chambers of the Princess Visenya were situated, he met several lords and ladies from different parts of the Seven Kingdoms. Nevertheless, it did not escape him, that the courtiers were still not even half of the amount which they had been on the time before the rebellion of the usurper. Of course, the capitol was still in ruins, but who had thought that the nobility would ever prefer the court on the times of Aerys Tagaryen over what it was now, when he was dead and would not be able to burn any poor soul, anymore?

But maybe it had been because the court had still been graced by the presence of the beautiful and tragic Queen Rhaella. Even when it had been her, who had to suffer from the king´s inconsistent moods, she had tried to bring joy to the court and everyone around her. The memory of what she had to suffer from her mad husband, still filled Jaime with a feeling of helpless fury and the fact that she had not survived the birth of her youngest child, left him with an even greater sadness.

That first time - he had not been older than sixteen at the time - he had been almost too shocked to understand what was happening behind the closed doors. Soon enough, however, that had changed, after he had recognized the expressions his brothers had worn on their faces. Guilt, shame, and helpless anger. He remembered well the night, he had asked why they would simply stand idly by while Aerys raped her, if it was not their duty to protect her as well. Better yet, he remembered the answer given to him by Ser Darry_. "We are but not from him."_

Now, it seemed there would be another member of the royal family, he would not be able to help. It did not escape him, either, that the princess´ banishment to the Maidenvault, far away from Maegor´s Keep and the chambers of Aegon, where the Tagaryens normally had their quarters, had probably been on purpose and by order of Connington no less. At least that had been Jaime´s assumption.

The only other time that a prince or princess had not had their chambers in Maegor´s Keep, had been under the reign of Baelor the Blessed and this had only been due to the king's fear that he would not be able to refuse the temptation his sisters posed. In case of these two siblings, though, one could claim without doubt that this would not be necessarily. At least not yet.

Yet, at the very beginning, when Connington had been named hand, he had displayed his displeasure of Lyanna Stark in great public. Often, one could hear him curse and accuse her how she had managed to tempt his prince away, into a stupid and dangerous adventure. Stated how her father had best send her to the silent sisters. At that time Jaime had simply thought that he just had not his ways with women, and while this might be true, his dislike for the Lady Lyanna had only ever increased, especially after the death of Rhaegar. In the end, the dislike had developed into feelings of pure hate, if what Connington now would state of her from time to time was anything to go by. In addition, her name had been wholy banished from the court.

This hate had been broadcasted to Lyanna´s daughter as well, as the words which had been exchanged just before on the courtyard had unfortunately proved. Worse, Connington did not seem to be the only one to think like this. Several at court and probably across the rest of the realm as well, had developed the opinion that Visenya was at fault for what had happened to the whole realm. Their beloved prince was dead as well as the Lady Lyanna so, in the end, the people only had to choose the easiest target to blame for all their problems caused by the war. It would not matter to them that the princess had not even been born yet, as Sir Willem had also mentioned earlier, or that it had been Brandon Stark whom had demanded, so stupidly, the prince´s head, or that Aerys could not be satisfied with the deaths of Lord Rickard and his firstborn.

No, the actual facts would be forgotten, simply too uninteresting for the common folk and too difficult to understand. It was easy enough for them to lay the blame at the feet of the only living being who had been involved in all of this. Visenya Tagaryen. The daughter of the woman in whose name, the war had been fought for.

He was only a short passage away from his destination when he saw from the corner of his eye a little flower growing amid a tuft of weed. When he let his gaze roam about ist more closely, he recognized a small daisy which brought back to his mind that today was also the second nameday of the little princess. Without any hesitance Jaime bent down and plucked the flower. A little nameday present, even though it would not be much.

Eventually, Jaime stood in front of the door of the princess´ chambers. He tensed when he could detect no sign of Ser Arthur standing anywhere near the door where he was supposed to stand watch. Suddenly he heard the loud laughter of a child resounding from behind the closed door and he felt the tension leave him. Jaime stepped forward and knocked loudly on the door. The next second, a slim built and light-haired man opened the door. From head to toe he was clad in a pure white armour and his dark blue, almost violet eyes, shone in a heavy contrast.

“Ser Jaime,” Ser Arthur said, with a small smile gracing the normally so serious features of the knight. “I wondered, yet, where you have been.” He stepped aside and let Jaime enter the chambers.

On the floor, right in front of him, he could see the princess sitting on the floor. In front of her lay a bunch of several differently coloured ribbons, like those one would use to style a lady’s hair.

Some of the she held in her small hands and let them fly through the air to draw a rainbow-like phenomena. He guessed the spectacle had also been the source of the laughter he had heard just before. Behind him Ser Arthur had closed the door and now turned again towards him.

“What kept you so long? The little princess and I had even started to worry about you. I hope it has not been anything serious?”, he tried to keep his tone amused, Jaime though, could distinguish the seriousness of the question. Arthur, too, had sensed the tension in the court ever since Rhaegar had died and Connington had taken over the responsibilities of the realm.

“No, nothing serious. I just kept the king company during his training for a minute.”

“I see. If there is nothing else to discuss I will be on my way then.” Ser Arthur answered and turned towards the princess. who was now watching the whole exchange with curious eyes. “Princess, I am afraid I have to leave now but Ser Jaime will continue to keep you company.” He bowed, turned to open the door and left.

Any who might had watched the exchange between the two members of the King's Guard might not notice it, but there was a distance between the two. It had been there ever since Sir Arthur had returned from the Tower of Joy together with their brothers and the still pregnant Lyanna Stark. Before, Jaime had even shared some kind of a mentor-student relationship with the Sword of the Morning. Now, however, that had changed. He could not even name the exact reason, but guessed that Ser Arthur had started to suspect some of the events which had transpired during the fire of King's Landing. Which one of them, he could not tell, but he did know that should Arthur ever find out, even a sliver of the truth, Jaime would not survive it. And he was not sure if he even wanted to.

“Ser Jamie, where Arti go?”, the sudden voice of the two-year-old asked. She looked up at him with her huge baby eyes, the curious expression still on her face.

“He has other duties to attend at the moment, but I am sure he will visit you on the morrow.”, Jaime answered her, not knowing if he had said the right words.

Her expression turned grave, but instead of crying like Jaime expected and feared her to do, she just nodded and said “Oh.” Still, Jaime noticed how sad the thought of being left alone, or, at least, without the only person who had, as far as she could remember, truly treated her with open warmness, made her.

Though this was no surprise, when he considered the circumstances in which the princess had to grow up. From the beginning, most of the realm did not know what to do with this princess who had appeared so surprisingly and under such a strange background. What Connington thought of her did not seem to escape her notice, either. Neither did the way Connington’s opinions influenced the servants, whom, as a result, treated her in a less than appropriate manner, in order to win the favour of the Lord Protector. For such a young child, she seemed far too smart.

A year ago, the presence of her father had still protected her, since Rhaegar had proved to anyone who wanted to see it, that he loved the little girl the Lady Lyanna had gifted him with dearly. Also Lord Stark had seemed fond of his newly born niece and had even the king to take the princess back to the North. But the king had refused, thus, after he had died, there had been no family left to take care of Visenya.

The only one to resemble a family member might be Arthur Dayne, who had been Rhaegar´s best friend since childhood, although Connington might state differently, and who had also been with Lyanna Stark through most of her pregnancy and had befriended the young woman. In the end, her death had almost hit him as hard as Rhaegar’s. Therefore, for the Sword of the Morning, it had been out of question to not take care of the princess as best as possible and as far as his duties as a member of the King's Guard would allow him to.

Also, Jaime´s other brothers, would take care of the princess’s security but, of all of them, Arthur had been the one who took it most to heart. As the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold´s topmost duty, was the security of the king, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell Whent had been sent to Dragonstone, to keep watch over the Prince Viserys and the Princess Daenerys. And Prince Lewin Martell mostly kept to Aegon as well, since he was not only his great nephew, but the princess Visenya the daughter of the woman that Rhaegar had supposedly cheated Elia Martell with albeit Rhaegar had claimed after most of the chaos had calmed down that his wife had been involved in the plan. But since Elia Martellwas dead, and there had been no obvious proof of Rhaegar´s word, the Dornish still were quite displeased with Rhaegar.

Though this was nothing in comparison to how they thought about Connington. After his refusal to let the king grow up in Dorne at the court of his uncle, Prince Oberyn had angrily returned to Sunspear. In truth, Jaime though it a smart decision of Connington, since it would otherwise alienate the king from his people should he grow up in one of the kingdoms, but the manner in which he had addressed the whole matter, had been less then level-headed. However, the Martell´s had no choice but to follow the Lord Regent´s orders in the end and would now visit their nephew from time to time. The second planned visit of the Red Viper, Prince Oberyn’s widely known moniker, was just two months away. He would be accompanied by one or two of his bastard daughters and, this time, maybe the apparent heir of Dorne, the Princess Arianne, as well.

Jaime could not say he looked much forward to it. Every time he would be in the same room as the Dornish Prince it seemed he could will daggers into his chest just by staring. Not that he could blame him since it had been him who had failed to protect his sister and niece but, nevertheless, he did not need yet another reminder of his guilt and shame.

He again regarded the princess, who was still seated on the floor but had now stopped playing with her ribbons. He could see on her face the notions that the vanishing Arthur made her consider. She did not know if she should believe Jaime, when he said that he might return and play with her in the next day. Probably, it reminder her too much of how her nursemaid Wylla, had just vanished one day to never return to her. Another one of Connington´s orders. As soon as he had considered the princess old enough to not need nursing anymore, the Dornish woman had been sent back to Starfall, where she had been a simple servant before Prince Rhaegar had demanded her services as a midwife for the Lady Lyanna.

She had been the only mother the princess had known since the Queen Lyanna had died during her birth, therefore, it seemed particularly cruel to him to just take the woman away from her. Jaime could tell, from his own experience, that the loss of a mother was a terrible thing. The only hope one might harbour was that the princess might still be too young to remember the loss.

But from her expression, which now bordered on fear, he thought not. With that pensive look, though, he saw for the first time some resemblance to her father. Most times, one could hardly guess that she belonged to the Tagaryen family, since her looks resembled so much the ones of her mother. This had worsened the situation even more, he thought, since she now was the only one of the surviving family members, who did not have the typical Tagaryen looks. Both Viserys and Aegon had, from an early age, shown great similarities to Rhaegar and even the babe Daenerys was said to have the silver-blond hair and the violet eyes of her family.

Visenya´s only feature that revealed her Tagaryen heritage, though, were her eyes. They, too, had the colour of amethysts, but in a such dark shade, that they almost bordered on black. Otherwise, everything in her was Stark. From her deep brown hair to her long and small shaped face. It only made the gap between Visenya and her other family members larger. Showed how different she was from the others. It reminded him a little bit of Tyrion. Jaime knew he loved his little brother, but he could not deny, that Tyrion had never been like his other family members. Had never fit right with them. His father and Cersei had made sure of that.

Suddenly, he remembered the flower he still held in his hands. He knelt down before the princess and stuck out his hand. Her eyes were settled on it and curiously she asked “What´s that, Ser Jamie?”

He smiled at her and said “I know I am not Ser Arthur but maybe you will like this. It is a kind of nameday present.” At his words, her eyes started to shine, but instead of grabbing after it, like any other child, she remained still and waited for Jaime to open his hand. “Do you want to see it?”, he asked and she nodded heavily with her small head.

“Yes.”

He then opened his hand and revealed the flower inside. At the sight of it, Visenya´s eyes grew big and she carefully took the daisy from his hand.

“I know it is just a small one, a daisy, but that does not mean that she has no meaning or that she cannot be as beautiful as the other ones.” Jaime did not know where his words came from and he almost thought them silly, when the princess looked up and threw her little arms around his neck, or at least tried to since she was still too small to match his high, even while he knelt on the floor. He had heard, she had been born almost a month too early, so her small size was no surprise.

He fetched her up then, still not sure what he was actually doing. He did not regard himself as someone who could deal well with children, especially with as young ones. But then she pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Ser Jamie.” Her voice sounded a bit hoarse and he saw that a few tears run down her cheeks, but a wide smile was growing on her face.

“You’re welcome, Princess.” Suddenly, he noticed how much better he felt. It seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe much easier than just a moment before. He had not thought that such a small gesture could do so much. But, again, it reminded him of how he had a few years ago gifted Tyrion with his first pony and how happy this had made his little brother.

“And I can truly keep it?” she asked, now more shyly.

“Of course, it is all yours.” he answered her in all seriousness.

Maybe Arthur did not need to be the only one who took care of not only her security but her well-being and happiness as well. Aegon would have the other members of the King´s Guard to take care of him, not to speak of Jon Connington or the Martells. But this princess, this little girl, would have almost no one, so it might not hurt if he would concentrate a little bit more on her and try to lift a little bit of the cruelness of this world from her tiny shoulders. Maybe it could be like it was with Tyrion. Besides it was not as if Connington would want him any nearer to the king than he was already, still mistrustful as he was of Jaime´s loyalties. Therefore, it would not be difficult for him to ask for the watch over the little princess.

It was also a possibility to pay off his debt for not having been able to protect the Queen Rhaella, another one who had had to live in a cage with only the smallest of pleasures. Yes, for her and the wonderful memory she still was in his head, he would protect her little grandchild of any harm the world would throw at her. He promised this vow he would not break.


	4. Tears and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life can be hard. Even if you are a princess of House Tagaryen. Especially if you are a princess of House Tagaryen. Especially if your name is Visenya Tagaryen.

Visenya Tagaryen

Smack! Visenya heard the impact of Lord Connington´s hand on her cheek even before she felt it. Its echo hollowed loudly into the room. Now she could also feel the burning sting of it but even worse was the burning embarrassment and shame this act evoke in her. Slowly she felt the first tears making their way down her hot cheeks.

“How could you be so careless, stupid girl? Do you know, what you have done!?”, Lord Connington shouted with his iciest voice. The gaze by with he regarded her was one of fury and disgust and she felt herself crouch back even more.

“I did not want to. It was just an accident, Mylord.”, Visenya answered back timidly. Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper while her gaze wandered to her feet, not able to hold the gaze of Lord Connington anymore.

It had indeed been an accident. There was no way that she would ever harm her brother intentionally. Not only was he her brother and king but she knew that it would only evoke the fury of Lord Connington and further punishments for herself. She was neither stupid nor blind and was very much aware of how much Connington hated her and considered her at fault for everything bad happening. She did not need to provide him with any more reasons.

And yet all she had wanted to do, was to play a game like the other children always did. When Magaery would mention how often she and her older brothers played _Come into my Castle_ and how much fun they would always have, she had gotten curious and thus had dared to ask whether Aegon liked to play with her as well. She knew, of course, that with seven years of age, Aegon was probably too old to still play with his little sister. But as Jamie always told her, you were better trying to share a good relationship with your siblings.

It had been quite a surprise for her when Aegon had consented since she so often believed, he did not like her. Most of the time their pathes did not cross and he himself did not seem to be too interested in spending time with her, either. And when she saw him, there was always a distance between them, especially when he would refer to her only as his _half-sister_.

At first she had thought the gap between their ages to be the reason as she was three years younger than him but when she got to know that some of Magaery´s brothers were even older then Aegon, she knew th e reason was not to be found there. When she grew older, however, the reason for Aegon´s supposed dislike of her had made ist its known.

Since an early age she had been aware that most of the people kept a distance to her and would whisper behind her back of how she was the cause to the whole catastrophe which had taken place when she had been born. She did not know much about it, just that it had to do with her father, grandfather and mother and that it was the reason the names of her mother and grandfather were never mentioned. Always when she had tried to get an answer to her questions what had actually happened four years ago the people would only look at her with strange expressions on their faces and turn their backs on her or claimed she was not old enough to understand it.

Not even Jaime or Art had answered her correctly when she asked, only stating that nothing of this had been her fault and she should not listen to what others would say. And what they said was that she had been the reason for the deaths of Queen Elia and her sister Princess Rhaenys besides of causing some still unknown catastrophe. With knowing this she could understand Aegon´s behaviour towards her, especially if influenced by Lord Connington who was a father-figure to Aegon. But this nevertheless did not change the hurt she felt at his behaviour or made her question how she could have even been able to cause something as drastic as the death of someone when she could not even remember anything of this. But she had long ago given up to wonder about the accusations the people would throw at her head, it was already too long a part of her life and she had never been able to change something about it.

So with this knowledge in mind she again wondered about Aegon´s choice to play with her. Had it just been because of the presence of some of the other lords who´s names she never could remember and who´s purpose she could not quite understand? Had he just wanted to play the gentle king or had it truly been some honest affection towards her? No matter which of them had been the reason, it did not matter, now, since Aegon would definitely hate her after what had happened.

When they had started playing everything had been fine, she even thought that they had had real fun for the very first time together but then she had to shove Aegon too strongly in order to hinder him from entering her imaginary castle and he had first swayed, trying to find his balance, and than fallen to the ground, hitting his head on a stone.

Immediately his head had started bleeding and his face had been drained of every colour. Not once in her life had she been that afraid. Worse Connington had watched them from the side line and as soon as Aegon had fallen to the ground, he had been upon them and cried to everyone around to fetch a Maester as fast as possible.

Everything had happened faster then she could even realize. Her body as stiff as if she had been made of stone and an iciness that let her whole figure trembling. In a blur she had seen Magaery crying, who had watched as well, and the people moving around her, shouting commands and at each other. Prince Lewyn, she remembered, had been standing watch and had also been the one to fetch Aegon into his arms and carry him away. Since then she had not seen either of them because only moments later Connington had turned at her direction and dragged her towards his chambers where they were now standing.

At first, when the door had fallen shut behind her and she had seen the expression on Connington´s face, the most hateful one he had ever sent in her direction, she had started thinking he would kill her the next moment, just in this chambers. Her trembling had only worsened since then as well as her tears since did she not deserve to die? After everything her existence had caused already she would now also add the murder of her brother to that list, the murder of her king. She was sure as soon as Connington had his way with her they would fetch the executioner and kill her for treason and... and ...She had just wanted to play.

Could the gods not at least let her play for once or had she always been predestined for pain and destruction, no matter what she did? She was almost glad for the slap Connington had given her.

“If you had not wanted it to happen, it would not have happened. You can spare you your false apologies for someone who will believe you. Everyone knows the character of a bastard, you cannot deceive me. I know what you truly are.” His voice was of so much contempt now that she thought he might burst of it. How was it even possible for someone to hate her so much? She had never wanted that anyone was hurt, least of all Aegon.

“Please...Mylord...I never...I never...”, but she could not finish her sentence, too much was her body shaken by tears and sobs. Still, Lord Connington could only look at her as if she was some disgusting insect. He did not even seem to listen to her words.

“Just like your mother. As if she had not done enough, she also had to curse me and the king with your presence. As if the realm had not already suffered enough under her whims. I swear to you, girl, if the king should befall any further harm from your side intentionally or not, you will regret the day of your birth.”

As if she did not do already. She hated her life, hated herself. Why had she had to live? If she had only never been born, how many people would still be alive? Her father, her mother, her sister Rhaeny and so many more, she could not even tell.

Connington just continued with his tirade, not even watching at her tears. “Had it not been for you and that slut, you call mother, my prince would still be alive. He would have been the greatest king this kingdom had ever seen. He would have been able to see his son grow up. But instead you and your mother had to ruin everything and it left this realm in shatters , for me and Aegon to repair.” Slowly his face colour turned to a deep red, almost as red as his hair and with each sentence spit was thrown through the air.

“Please...Please...I...”, she tried anew but a second slap of Lord Connington silenced her.i 

“Be quiet, you insufferable brat. Your whole existence is a curse. The only thing you have ever done right had been freeing us and Rhaegar from this slut but you will never be useful for anything else. Do you understand, girl!?”

She could not bear to listen listen anymore. Her sobs now so loud she would be surprised if they would not be heard in the whole city. She turned around the same moment as the door was opened behind her. As fast as she could she ran out, passing the unannounced visitor who stumbled back with surprise at her fast speed. Just shortly she could recognize Great Maester Pycell.

It seemed to her that she had ran through the whole Red Keep before she finally arrived at the door to her chambers, blinded by her tears. Strangely she had seen almost no one but maybe they were with Aegon and tried to comfort him. At least she hoped it, otherwise she could only imagine that her brother was dead, which would mean her end and the end of the realm as well. How often had Connington reminded her of that?

Aegon was everything and she was nothing, at least to him. What he had said, had just made it clear once again. And know, even the few people who had liked her would only regard her with the same contempt and disgust as Lord Connington. Visenya thought she might burst of desperation. There would be no one who would comfort her, also if she knew any though of comfort for herself would be selfish. She did not deserve to be comforted if everything she was and did, leaded only to destruction.

Just before she reached the door, she suddenly heard steps behind her and great fear came upon her. She knew it. She knew it. Aegon was dead and it had been her fault and now they would kill her. Her breath got erratic and voices started to shout after her. As fast as she could, she opened the door of her chambers, entered and threw the door shut behind her. With her back to the door she glided to the floor and prayed to every god she knew that the door would not allow them to enter.

_Please. Please. I did not want to. I just wanted to play. Please, do not let Aegon be dead. Please._ How long she sat there and prayed, she did not know. But when she stopped, she noticed that the voices behind the door had grown silent. Where had they gone? Would they try to break in, after she had not opened the door herself? Would she now experience her own kind of siege until she would come out and confess her crimes?

To any other time the thought would have made her excited but now she was utterly afraid for her life. She still did not know how bad Aegon was hurt but if he was indeed dead, she could not remain here. She knew her behaviour was the one of a coward but she could not do anything about it. She did not want to die. With the sleeve of her dress she wiped the tears of her face. She had to think how she could escape her room and the Red Keep.

Visenya let her gaze roam through the whole room but could not recognize anything that might help her escaping her cell. And a cell it was now since it had never felt as small and frightening to her as now. With this in mind she did not want to imagine how much worse the famous Black Cells would be. Desperately she tried to calm down while still searching her chambers for anything that might help.

Her eyes caught the window. Maybe there was a way for her to climb out? But when she looked out and became aware how deep she would fall if she might lose her grip, particularly with her still trembling hands, a feeling of nausea overcame her. It was not as if she was afraid of highs but she had never climbed before - which reason would she have - and did not consider the idea of being smashed on the ground very appealing.

But was this really true? If she would die climbing out the window her death would at least be an easier one than the death Connington would sentence her to. He had already promised her that she would regret the day of her birth and she knew him well enough to expect of him to realize his threat. Moreover it was not as if anyone would miss her besides of Ser Jaime and Ser Arthur. Most would probably be glad that she was gone. Aegon would probably be glad and he was family, the only one she knew since everyone else was dead because of her. And if not even her own family would miss her which reason would she still have to cling to her miserable life?

It would be similar to the death of the long dead Princess Jahaera, the first wife of King Aegon the third. She, too, had only been a little girl, not suited and strong enough for the cruelness of the world. Maybe then the people would hate her a little bit less. If she was dead and could not poison everything around her.

And if what the faith always said was true and there would be an afterlife for everyone, maybe she would see her parents and meet them for the very first time since she had no memory of them. It would be wonderful to not be alone, anymore. Even if she would come right into hell how Lord Connington had once told her. _If you had died at birth you could have followed your mother right into hell_. This was all she had ever wished for, to not be alone and to be loved even if only a little bit.

Suddenly she noticed that she stood directly in front of her window. The wind blew into her face and made her freeze even more. The ground was so very far away but she felt that it did not frighten her as much as just a moment ago. She was now sure what she would do. She would find freedom and peace. It would only take one jump. She climbed atop the balustrade of her window and let her gaze wander across the sky. _How would it feel to fly?_ The sudden thought made her look at her bed where a huge stone was seated amid her nightclothes.

It shone in several bright colours. The majority of it silver but some parts were also covered with veins of blue and crimson. Except of the daisy Ser Jaime had gifted her with two years ago, it was her most precious property. Her cradle egg. Once a real dragon egg had it turned over the centuries into stone but it was nevertheless beautiful to look at and more expensive than she could even imagine.

For her, though, its value was more because of the connection to her family and the emotions it evoke in her. Ser Arthur had told her once that her father himself had put it into her cradle shortly after her birth. All of his children had been gifted with one thanks to an old tradition of the Tagaryen dynasty. Aegon himself was in possession of a golden one. In the earlier centuries it had been done to evoke a connection between a member of the royal family and a hatchling and to predict who would be destined to become a dragon rider but since the death of the last dragon more than one century ago the ritual had been reduced to the last hollow hope to return dragons to the world and to strengthen their family.

Every generation had tried to hatch new dragons with the last remaining eggs but every attempt had only lasted in disaster while the eggs had turned more and more into stone. The last try had been undertaken by Visenya´s own great great grandfather the late King Aegon the fifth and triggered the tragedy of Summerhall. This had been the last time that a Tagaryen had tried to bring dragons back into the world but it had also been the day her father, Rhaegar Tagaryen, had been born.

Just like herself her father had been born into tragedy. Just like herself he possessed a character influenced by melancholy and loneliness. Maybe she had more in common with him than everyone thought, herself included? It was not only to the circumstances of her birth that the people seemed to hate her but also her looks, so different than the ones of her father, that made her an outsider to the rest of her family since her uncle and aunt, too, were said to possess the mysterious appearance of their ancestors.

When she looked at her egg, an egg her father thought her worthy of, she was reminded that she, as well, was a Tagaryen even if she might forget it most of the time. She noticed how her feet brought her down to the floor, again, and she took the egg into her hands. As long as she could remember the egg had been a comfort for her. Whenever she was sad after Lord Connington, Aegon or someone else had said something mean or cruel to her, she just had to look at it and she would feel less lonely. It evoke a feeling in her that there was always someone who kept care of her. It let her feel strong even if she knew that she was not.

Her gaze concentrated even more on her egg and she felt a sudden heat in it, every thought of jumping out of the window forgotten. She could not do it and she would not do it. Her mother had given her life so that she could live. Her father had trusted her with a dragon egg. She could not throw it simply away. What would they think of her if she did? She wanted to make them proud and prove to them that she was worth it to be a Tagaryen.

Still shaking at the thought of what she had almost done a moment ago, she sat down onto her bed.

Suddenly her vision began to change and she saw flames dancing across the surface of the egg. Slowly they turned into defined shapes. The shapes of dragons, huge and dark and dangerous. She was not able anymore to see her chamber around her since her environment had changed completely. Instead she saw the sky, wide and enormous and the whole world seemed to spread under her. Visenya felt herself flying and it was a wonderful feeling.

She was not afraid. Most people would be, that she knew, if they saw such things like these but for her they were like old friends. Often she would dream the same dream. Dragons flying through the air. Though it surprised her that the dream would out her now for she was not asleep and for a short moment she thought she had gone mad.

But of course they would come to her now. Like the egg they were able to make her feel better and to comfort her. Every time she thought she would never be a real part of her family, she would dream of them.

Besides they never frightened her or made her waking up screaming like her other dreams did. Often she could not quite remember those dreams but every time she had a nightmare, she knew that it had to be some of those other dreams. Even now she could only remember snow falling everywhere around her or at least she believed it to be snow since it resembled the description of snow her Maester had given her once. In those dreams she would freeze constantly and aside of the snow she was not able to see anything else. Always more snow and an icy wind blowing. And there would be a feeling of absolutely fear. It stung deep into her bones. Just moments before she would wake up, she would see dark figures drifting just outside her view.

The memory made her shudder and she stumbled back into reality as if she had actually slept and would now wake up from a dream. Alarmed she let the egg fall from her hands and it rolled up to the wall next to her bed. When it collided with the wall, Visenya could hear a silent crack and a stone of the wall got lose. Worried at what damage she had done now, Visenya knelt down and tried to push the lose stone back into his place. But instead of gliding into his original place the stone sunk even deeper into the wall and she heard an even more silent crack.

Carefully she approached the wall, afraid it might tumble down on her the next moment. When she was near enough, she was able to see a small gap which had opened in the wall. With trembling hands but nevertheless filled to the brim with curiosity she put her fingers in between the gap and started to pull. Another crack was heard and the door, at least she suspected it to be one, swung inside and revealed a dark passage.

While Visenya stared shocked at the entrance in front of her, millions of thoughts poured through her mind. What was this and how was it possible that such a passage existed? Were there more of them or lead this passage only to another secret chamber in the castle? Suddenly she remembered what her Maester had told her once about the castle. When they had talked about the reign of Maegor the Cruel - no king Visenya deemed suited for the Iron Throne and a kinsleyer no less - her Maester had mentioned that it was this king who had finished the building of the Red Keep. Furthermore he had mentioned that Maegor had ordered the workers to built secret passages through the whole castle.

If those rumours were to be true, was it possible that this passage was one of them? To her curiosity was now also added pure excitement and she asked herself the most important question, where was this gait leading to? Carefully she walked into the passage, leaving her chambers behind. Visenya looked up and down the path that had opened before her but it seemed that it leaded further away than she could distinguish.

Hesitantly she wondered what to do now. Go back into her chambers or follow the secret passage? In her excitement it had almost escaped her mind what had triggered the whole occurrence and she had to remember Lord Connington and what he would do to her if Aegon should be...if he should be...

Again Visenya had to fight back her tears. No, she would not start crying again. She had to be stronger than that. Yet, the fear would not leave her. She glanced back towards the passage. No matter what would happen, it would certainly not be bad if she explored what she had found here. If she had found this gait, others might as well. And if the worst actually aught to occur, it would provide her a possibility to safe herself from Lord Connington. Besides her curiosity was just too high to be ignored.

Slowly she wandered down the passage, each few steps throwing a look behind her to make sure she would find the way back. With each steps she took, it grew darker around until she feared, she would be surrounded by darkness completely if she took only one step more. But then she reached a turning and saw that just a few steps ahead the light grew lighter again.

Now the insecurity was there again. Should she turn back or go further? What if she got lost and would not be able to find the way out? Help, she knew, would not come particularly if no one knew where she had gone. But could she truly turn back? It might be her only chance she got since who was to say that she would find a way to open the passage again. But she had also promised to make her parents proud and was this not the perfect possibility to do so, by showing that she could be brave even if she was afraid?

Visenya took a deep breath in and walked further, deeper into the mysteries of the Red Keep.

* * *

She could not assess how long she had walked but it had to be at least an hour and she was sure by now that she would not be able to find her way back. Though she had no reason to worry about this for she had found - while she had examined the passages - that all along the wallswalls there were some weird looking levers. When she had at first recognized one, she had immediately tried to move it and as it had happened in her chambers, the wall had vanished and revealed an exit to her.

Surprisingly the room she had found herself in was the same she would take her lessons in and her suspicion that these might be the secret passages of Maegor the Cruel deepened. Luckily the room had been empty and no one had detected her. It would be difficult to explain how she had gotten hither.

Since then her fear of being lost had declined completely and she had returned into the passage, though not without closing the exit behind her by putting the lever back into its place. With it she had discovered as well that she was able to watch the room through cleverly set holes in the wall and when she moved further that she was able to listen to conversations, too. Until now she had not heard anything of significance, only that obviously no one was missing her but she tried not to be too sad about it. After all she did not want to be found at the moment, either.

Suddenly she heard a familiar voice resounding from the wall to her right.

“...you are well. We were so worried about you, Aegon.” Yes, she was sure she knew the voice. It was Magaery´s.

“My thanks, Mylady. I appreciate your concern and those of your family.”, a calm and polite voice answered. Aegon. Visenya thought she might faint so lucky and relieved she felt at the knowledge that her brother was not dead. She had suspected as much since the whole castle had been calm and she could not imagine so if her brother had died but it was nevertheless relieving to see it personally.

She searched for a hole in the wall and watched the scene before her. It was Aegon´s chamber. Or at least she guessed that it was. She had been in there only a handful of times. Both, he and Magaery sat on his bed and Magaery had thrown her arms around him. Aegon returned the hug. To see this made her loose some of her joy. Why could Aegon not hug her as he did Magaery? Did he hate her so much?

“How is Visenya? She looked very shocked, too, when you hit your head.”, Magaery asked her brother.

Now Visenya also recognized the bandage which was wrapped around Aegon´s head. She had not seen it at first in his silvery hair.

“Visenya? I do not know. I have not seen her since then. But surely she will be well.”, his tone sounded casually but at the expression on his face she could see that he did not want to talk about her. It made her stomach turn.

Aegon might be well but he still seemed to hate her. She had been right, with the accident she had ruined every possibility to have a good relationship with her brother. Angry she wiped a lonely tear from her cheek.

“But do you not think she might be worried about you? She is your sister after all. If anything should happen to Loras or...” Now with a harsher tone in his voice Aegon interrupted her. “I do not want to speak about Visenya.” Aegon´s reaction seemed to surprise Magaery since she flinched and regarded Aegon with huge eyes.

“I am sorry, Aegon. I did...did not want to anger you.”, she muttered, now a shy expression on her face. Before her brother could answer, tough, the door was opened and the person Visenya wanted to see least of all walked inside. Lord Connington had arrived.

“Aegon, how are you? Maester Pycelle told me your wound is just superficial but I would be less worried if I would hear from yourself that you are not hurt.” It was strange how differently his voice sounded now. Full of care and worry. It was the complete opposite of when he would speak to Visenya.

Aegon´s eyes shone and he wore a little smile on his face when he regarded Lord Connington.

“Yes, Maester Pycelle said, the wound is not deep but that I should stay in bed for one day or two, just to be careful. Though I do not think I will need it.”

“I am proud of you that you seem to take your duties seriously but I think it nevertheless better if you would listen to the orders of Maester Pycelle, my King.”

“I think, too, that you should listen to Maester Pycelle. Mama always says that we should listen to our Maester when we are ill or hurt. Even my grandmother says this sometimes.”, Magaery added with her soft girlish voice.

“Lady Magaery”, Connington turned to her as if he had noticed her just in this moment “I am glad that the king has such confident and lovely company,” he did not sound as if he meant his words honestly “though I am afraid that the king needs rest now.” He looked down at her with his strict eyes now which caused even the ever confident Magaery to shrink back and turn red.

“Of course, Mylord. My family just wanted to make sure that Aegon is all right.”, she almost whispered.

“That they have. If you will excuse us now?” Connington offered her not even a look anymore.

Maybe to win a little bit of her dignity back, Magaery made a deep and graceful curtsy towards her brother and additionally offered him a small smile before she vanished through the door. Both, Lord Connington and her brother looked after her until the door had closed behind her.

“I hope, you were honest with me, Aegon, and did not lie to me just to impress the Tyrell girl. There are more important issues to consider than some girl, my boy. Never forget that.” he looked strict but also lovingly down at Aegon.

“Because father made this mistake? With Lyanna Stark?”, Aegon asked but sounded despite of the questioning tone already sure of the answer.

“Yes. I truly loved your father. He was a great king but he nevertheless allowed a woman to lead him to ruins. You must not made the same mistake.”

“I will not, Jon. I promise you.”, Aegon said seriously but continued after a second “but what is to be done with Visenya? I do not know...did she shove me...intentionally? Magaery does not think so but...”.

Through the hole in the wall she saw Lord Connington´s jaw tightening at the mention of her name.

“Do not worry about her, Aegon. If she should try anything like this again, no matter if intentionally or not, I will take care of her. Do not forget, she has chaos and destruction in her blood...just like her mother.” The last part of the sentence he almost muttered only to himself but Aegon seemed to understand him despite of it.

What Aegon answered, Visenya did not hear anymore since she had decided that she did not want to listen to anything else Lord Connington had to say about her. She had already known that it was probably thanks to him that Aegon did not like her but to see it, made it even worse. It also made her hate him more even if she might deserve his hate.

Slowly she felt a growing tiredness and decided to find a way back to her own chambers. She did not want to leave the passages and to accidentally run into someone. She could not need any company at the moment.

Now every few meters she would stop to look through one of the holes to see if she was nearing her rooms but it seemed that she was only walking further away from them and she almost considered to simply give up and walk out the passage into the empty room she had passed when the door to the room she intended to enter was suddenly opened.

Immediately she recognized Maester Pycelle. It was easy to distinguish him even in the vanishing light of the evening. His chains rattled loudly in the quiet of the room. In his hand he seemed to hold a newly written parchment while a raven with deep black feathers sat on his other arm.

Strangely he seemed to look rather nervously and threw a glance back at the door several times before he fastened the parchment on the leg of the bird. Afterwards he moved to the open window and set the bird free, watching after it for several moments before he left the room again.

Visenya did not know what to think about the whole affair but to be honest she always thought the old Grand Maester a bit weird and did not like him as much as some seemed to do. Whenever he tried to answer one of her many questions to her, she thought she might die of boredom and he seemed to need endlessly to come to an end with his declarations. One time when she had asked why he wear so many different looking links in his chain, he did not even seem to understand her question correctly. But maybe it was only because he was already so old.

But no matter why the Maester had acted so strangely it was surely not of her concern and by the way she could not imagine that he would do anything inappropriate or against the law of the king. He still was a Maester after all, and a Maester would serve his legal Lord always with absolutely loyalty until his death. Or at least this was how her personal Maester Tylos had explained it to her.

After Maester Pycelle had gone, she waited for a few minutes until she opened the secret passage and climbed out. Now she was really glad that she had remembered to take her key to her chambers with her otherwise she would not be able to get back there. And this would really be difficult to explain.

While she walked through the Red Keep and back to the Maiden Vault she tried to be as fast and inconspicuously as possible. She still did not want to see anyone. Worse would be if she might meet Aegon or Lord Connington. Or maybe some servant would try to make fun of her like they often tried to ingratiate themselves with the Lord Protector and Regent.

Finally she had found her way back, luckily without meeting anyone. She just wanted to open her door with the key when she heard someone calling her name. Surprised and alarmed she turned around to see Ser Jaime running towards her direction.

“Visenya!”, he called again. She did not know what to do and before she could decide anything he had reached her. She did not dare to look at him, still sure he would hate her now after what she had done to Aegon.

“Where have you been? We thought you had been in your chambers the whole time.”, Ser Jaime continued with a worried and confused undertone in his voice.

Visenya noticed that she had started to play nervously with the key in her hand, not wanting to reveal where she had been and that she had left her chambers at all. Made attentive through her nervous hand gestures Ser Jaime recognized the key in her hand and frowned. “How did you get out of your rooms anyway? I was standing here almost the whole time.” He sounded even more confused.

“I...I...have not left the room. I ...was just leaving.”, she lied stuttering.

“I know this is not right, Princess. I have left only minutes ago.” His voice turned stricter. Desperately she tried to consider something different and remembered how she had at first wanted to left.

“I climbed through the window.”, she burst out and forced herself to look Ser Jaime into the eyes. She had heart it would make you more trustful. No one believed a person who did not dare to look you into the eyes, though she did not remember who had told her this.

“The window?! Princess, why would you climb out the window? You could have fallen down. Do you not know how dangerous that had been?”, he sounded shocked.

“It was not dangerous!”, she snapped back defiantly, albeit knowing better. “Princess, I know you are not stupid, so please, do not think I am. What would, for the gods sake, animate you to climb out of the window?”, he repeated his question.

Now, Visenya was confused. Did he not know what had happened? Was this the reason he sounded so worried about her? But surely, he had to know what had happened in the courtyard. He belonged to the King's Guard.

“I...I...”, she wanted to curse herself when she suddenly started crying again. Shamed she tried looking away but Jaime noticed her tears nevertheless and forced her gently to look at him by lifting her chin with his hand.

“Princess...,Visenya...is it because of Aegon?”, he asked with a worried expression on his face. “You know, it was not your fault what happened. I know, you would never hurt your brother intentionally.”

“Do you think it truly? You do not...hate me? Because of what I have done?” She had to reassure herself of that. Had to know whether she still had a friend in Ser Jaime.

“Princess, you are children. Accidents happen, even among the royal family. There is no need to worry, Aegon is well. He merely suffers a minor swelling. Pycelle already declared he would at most stay in bed for a day, nothing more. Believe me, I had worse wounds and I am still alive.”

“I know but...”, she had to stop herself. She did not dare tell Ser Jaime of what Connington had said to her in his chambers. Neither could she tell him of her worries concerning Aegon and what he and Connington had said about her afterwards since she still did not want to reveal the secret passages to him.

She saw him frowning again and a dark expression flashed across his face. ”Has Connington said anything to you or...Aegon?” At the last part he sounded hesitantly.

Oh, how much she wanted to tell Ser Jaime about it but she knew she could not. He belonged to the King's Guard and therefore it was his utmost priority to protect the king and to support him no matter what should happen. She could not just reveal that Aegon hated her.

“No,...it is nothing. I...”. Ser Jaime interrupted her. "Princess, if anything happened to you or if anyone threatens you I need to know that if I am to protect you.”

“But you have to protect Aegon, not me. He is the king. I am just...just...”, she stuttered without finishing the sentence.

“You are a princess of the royal family and therefore it is my duty to protect you as well. And I will as will Ser Arthur.” He spoke with so much honesty and seriousness that she could not hold back anymore. She had to tell him. She had to or she might go mad.

“I was so afraid. I thought I had...had...killed Aegon and Lord Connington,...he... I was sure he would kill me...but it was an accident. Just an accident. I swear, I would never hurt him but he will hate me now, I know it. And I just wanted to play like Magaery but he will hate me now and...and...”. Again she was not able to finish her sentence, to much was her body shaken by her sobs. Despite of it she tried to continue “I thought even you and Art... would hate me now. I know the others do...and I have tried to be brave but...but I am not...And I do not want to be alone anymore. Please I do...do not want to.” It was a miracle that Ser Jaime could still understand any of what she had just said.

Ser Jaime only looked shocked at her outburst but was able to regain his conscious back after a few seconds. He now displayed a furious expression and she almost thought he was angry at her but then he said “Connington had threatened you? This is treason, Visenya if what you say...” Now it was her turn to interrupt him. “No, he did...did not threatened me.” , she hurried to lie, alarmed. She might hate him and be afraid of him but he was still like a father to Aegon and she just could not take any more family from him. Even if Aegon hated her. Especially if he hated her. No, she could not do this.

But despite of her lie Ser Jaime did not look convinced. “Princess, you know even if Connington is the Lord Protector and Regent he must not threaten you. If he should I...”

“No. It is nothing. I...The day has just been hard and I am tired...and I am sorry that I made you worry, Ser Jaime.” She tried to smile at him, convince him of what she had said.

“If you say so...but you should know that you can always come to me or Ser Arthur, Princess. We are there for you...and not only because we are of the King's Guard.”

With the sleeve that was not ruined, yet, she wiped her face. A little flame shining in her chest. She hugged Ser Jaime, who had knelt down to be on one high with her, and he returned the hug. It reminded her of when he had gifted her with the little daisy. It was one of her oldest memories. Ser Jaime was her knight in shining armour. Then and now. Maybe life hold still something in it for her.

“You will protect me?”, she asked still in his arms. “Of course, I will.”, he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope, this chapter was not a disappointment and you recognized the allusions. Additionally, I hope that the chapter made you even more excited how the plot will procede. I can promise magic will play a part in this story. By the way, I am sorry that the story is still told in so short chapters but I promise I will writte longer ones since I am still not finished with the introduction of the plot line. ;)


	5. New and Old Aquaintences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more time the responsibilities of the realm have proved to be an exhausting duty to uphold, though it is nothing the Lord Regent cannot deal with. Or? Meanwhile a princess makes new acquaintances and a knight meets old ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all Merry Christmas! Second I am sorry for the delay with this chapter but particularly the first part caused me problems and I am still not content with it. Despite of it enjoy the chapter. :)

Jon Connington

All day long he had listened to the endless chatter and complains of countless members of the nobility and the commoners. As if there was nothing else they could spend their time with but for robbing him of his own valuable time. Carrying out the few duties and responsibilities he had granted them, to name only one example. It should not be, though this was the duty which was bestowed on the Lord Protector of the whole Seven Kingdoms after all, and Connington had sworn himself and Rhaegar that he would not let him down. He would not allow the realm to dissolve into chaos and destruction again. So far he thought, he had clung to his promise.

But he could not allow the subjects of his king getting too greedy, could he not? Worst had been Lord Tywin and that fat flower Mace Tyrell. As he had already suspected, Lord Tywin had tried to establish too much of his own influence in King's Landing and had used his increasing power for his own grasping ambitions. As he had already known from the beginning the Lannisters posed too much a threat for the security of his realm. They were not be trusted. At the current status it was worse enough that Lord Tywin's son was a member of Aegon´s King's Guard. Who knew whom this golden boy might serve in truth?

Thus he had no regrets having send the old lion back to the West, either. Indeed, it had not been half as difficult as the people always made it look like to chastise the old lion. Since what could Tywin Lannister do otherwise if he did not want to be taken as a traitor? No, it had only taken one strong and wilful man to show him his place. It had only taken Jon Connington. _Maybe the leader of house Lannister had finally lost his last fangs_, he mused.

Even Lord Velaryon had mustered more of a fight when Connington had released him from his position as Master of the ships. In his stead he had given the position to Lord Redweyn, after the Velaryons the house with the greatest fleet in the whole realm and additionally quite more humble than Lord Velaryon. It had greatly displeased him to be steadily criticized by the sea-horse-lord and had also granted him the possibility to satisfy the ever greedy Lord Tyrell.

Lord Tyrell was a burden of his own and with each passing day that burden proved to be getting more exhausting. Of all the loyalist he had demanded the most forcefully a reward for his loyalty and support during the Rebellion of the Usurper and if he would not get it as fast or as exactly as he wished it to be, he would become cross like a child who had not gotten the wished sweet. It did not seem to be enough that he and one of his vassal had been granted a position in their king´s small council. No, since a while Connington had the suspicion that the Lord of High Garden aimed to make his little daughter the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms as well.

To be honest it was not a too surprising aim of Lord Tyrell, after all, who would not like to make his daughter queen, but the way the fat flower tried to convert that aim was kind of ridiculous due to its sheer obviousness. He might guess that the Queen of Thorns was not quite pleased with her son.

But Connington knew when a fight was pointless. He might not like the idea of chaining Aegon to some silly girl but at least it would forge an alliance with one of the more loyal subjects and secure that he would one day have an heir to inherit his throne. Connington was just glad that he would not need as urgently as Aegon an heir. A wife would just be a liability he could not afford and an overly exhausting one as well. He only had to remind himself of Rheagar and what the shortcomings of his wives had cost him. Therefore, when the time would come at last that Aegon got in need of a wife, he would make sure that she would fulfil her duties to him and be otherwise out of the way so that Aegon could not be detered of reigning his kingdom as it was his right to.

Thus it did not matter if he liked or disliked Mace Tyrell or his ambitions as long as they served his and Aegon´s reign. At least in the last years he had been able to replace the other positions with men who were more of his liking. Each of them of the same age as himself and from less noble houses but with the strengths and the will to lead Westeros back to glory. This was it, what the kingdom needed, young men who knew what needed to be done and would not hold tightly on the past just on principle but created a better future for all of them.

He looked out of the window and saw to his great displeasure that it was only slightly past midday. Still too early to end the court and send the other visitors who wished to get granted help or other petty demands home. As Lord Regent this, too, was one of his duties, to hold court in Aegon´s stead so long as the king was still too young to do it himself.

With almost nine years of age their king had grown into a wonderful young man. Always eager to prove himself and a perfect image of his father. Since an early age he would display to be equipped with great talent in every part of life that mattered for a king. He was tall and strongly build, proved to be an excellent swordsman, he could dance and had a charm with which he could already wrap half of the court around his little finger and possessed altogether the making of a great king. Connington could not be any prouder of him.

At the moment Aegon would be in the courtyard, training his swordplay with one of the members of the King's Guard. He believed it to be his king´s great uncle, the Dornish Prince Lewin Martell. Connington did not know weather he liked this since the Dornish still tried to tie Aegon to Dorne and manipulate him to serve the good of the Dornish only. Worse Aegon seemed to respond to the manipulations, always pleased to hear from his maternal relations and eager to welcome them in King's Landing.

Their opinion about the Dornish was the only aspect in their otherwise perfect father-son like relationship in which they did not share the same mind. Of the whole pack the Prince Oberyn was the worst. Always aggressive, always mocking and condescending towards Connington but Aegon did not seem to take notice of that. He even seemed to admire his uncle and his cousin, the Princess Arianne, as well. Both of them were a shameless lot or at least the princess showed great signs of developing that way.

When she had first made a filthy joke during her last visit, he had even wanted to forbid any further visits of the Dornish partie, afraid they might corrupt his king with their disgusting way of life, not least also because Prince Oberyn would often be accompanied by several of his bastard daughters. Though Aegon had forbidden him to do so, which had drawn such a smug smile on the face of the Red Viper that Connington had to fight a great deal to not simply slap the smile from the prince´s face. But in the end he knew that Aegon would not have forgiven him if he had done such a thing and thus he had to endure the Dornish still.

Fortunately their next visit would be only in about another year since Prince Oberyn was momentarily on one of his voyages through Essos and Prince Doran still plagued by an illness which hindered him of making any far travels.

He took another swig of his wine, sweet Arborgold - another reason why it would be smart to establish good relations with Mace Tyrell - and dreaded the thought of returning to the Throne Room. Reigning was truly exhausting but a duty he could not be unburdened from. He was just about to stand up from his chair he was seated on, when someone suddenly knocked on his door.

Distrustfully he frowned but called the visitor to come in nevertheless. The next moment the door opened and Connington regretted that he had been so careless as to let an unknown enter his chambers since the person who had entered was no one else but Stannis Baratheon.

“Lord Connington”, Baratheon greeted and bowed just slightly his head. Connington did not miss the gesture.

“Lord Regent”, he corrected Baratheon coldly, not wanting to honour him by greeting back. Instead of acknowledging Connington´s correction, though, Baratheon only stared at him with his cool dark blue eyes.

“What do you want?”, he continued after no answer came back and no bit keen to sound friendly. A traitor did not deserve cooperation. Stannis Baratheon belonged to one of the many members of the nobility who had come to speak at court. So far he had been able to avoid him, though, by giving obvious excuses as to why he could not listen to the Lord of Storm´s End. Baratheon should be aware by now that his presence was not welcomed in the Red Keep. In the whole city to be correct.

“It seemed that you did not get my tidings regarding my wish to speak at court”, he uttered through gritted teeth, ”thereby I thought to speak with you personally, Mylord.” It did not escape Connington´s notice that Baratheon still did not use his correct title.

“Regarding which matter?”, he asked back in a tone that sounded utterly disinterested. He made sure to look Baratheon directly into his eyes while he said this.

“The condition of the Storm Lands”, Baratheon stated shortly.

“I am well aware of the conditions of the Storm Lands. I am, after all, its Lord Paramount if I remember correctly.” Long had he waited to utter these words in the presence of Lord Stannis and he could see at the hardening of Baratheon´s jaw that the sentence had not missed its aim. He could not avoid that a smug smile spread over his visage.

“You remember correctly but this makes me only wonder further how you could so utterly neglect your duties, Mylord.” , Baratheon repeated in a harsher tone without blinking, his gaze fixated stubbornly on Connington.

He felt the smile vanish from his face. The smugness replaced by cold fury. How could this traitor dare to insult him!? It seemed he had forgotten who it was he was speaking to. Which fraction it had been that had returned victoriously from the Trident on this fateful day six years ago. And whose mercyful demeanor, he had to thank for the fact that his head had not been put on a spike like a traitor like him deserved it.

“I think you forget who is in charge and whom it is you owe respect.”, Connington said, showing the whole extant of his fury in his voice. “Just for this, I could throw you into the Black Cells. Therefore I would be careful what you say next, Mylord”.

“I think you are the one to forget something, Connington. Last I remember, Aegon Tagaryen had been king of the Seven Kingdoms and not you. Therefore it is him I owe my respect and my loyalty and I will do so still. As will the rest of my family.”

If Baratheon thought that this hollow words would calm him down, he was utterly mistaken which he showed by laughing mockingly into his face. “Since house Baratheon is so well know for his loyalty, you mean?”

Again he saw Baratheon´s jaw tightening. “I know the deeds of my brother. You do not need to remind me of them nor its consequences though this changes nevertheless not the reason for my coming.”, Baratheon said with clear annoyances in his voice.

He knew that there was no point in arguing with Baratheon any further about this aspect. As Varys had told him the Lord of Storm´s End was a deeply honest man, which was proven by his disrespectful outspeak. Furthermore Stannis Baratheon possessed a very strict and, some would say uncompromising, sense of honour and decency. Lately Varys had even told him about Baratheon´s intent of banishing every whore around the region of Storm´s End and that he had ordered his men to burn every brothel as well.

Although he could not quite agree with Varys´ statement about Baratheon´s sense of honor - in his opinion they had proven to be a whole lot of ungrateful traitors – he maybe could take advantage of how Baratheon might see himself and what he might deem appropriate when dealing with traitors.

Smugness now written all over his face he asked Baratheon instead “And what would your complaints be about, Lord Baratheon?”

“You would know, Lord Connington. As you said my house no longer holds the title of Lord Paramount. Hence you have to be aware of the high restrictions and taxes laid upon the houses of the Storm Lands.”

“I am.”, Connington interrupted shortly.

“Then you also have to be aware of the fact that the houses cannot bear the burden of those restrictions anymore. How can the king expect from the Storm Lands to uphold its expectations when those restrictions and taxes the crown has sentenced us to are hindering us to do so?”, he continued with emphasis.

“I think we are both men of honour, Mylord. And as Lord Varys told me you have a sense of justice, so you cannot tell me that the punishments the crown decided to sentence the disloyal subject are not legitimate, are you not?” He knew that he had hit Baratheon with his own weapon. How he had stated his complaints about the punishments of the crown he clarified the injustice he saw in those and the injustice the king treated his subjects with. But Baratheon also had to be aware of how he himself would treat any traitor if it was him in the position Connington had found himself in. Hence his complaints only showed how much of an hypocrite he was if he wanted to uphold his own principles.

Again he saw Baratheon´s jaw hardening. “We had an agreement with King Rhaegar. In substitute for our loyalty and denial of any claims to the Iron Throne house Baratheon would be allowed to remain standing.”

“You are here, are you not? Therefore I see no reason to complain about.” Connington looked out of the window before his gaze returned to Baratheon. “When this had been everything, you will excuse me. I have other duties to uphold.”

“I am not finished yet, Connington.”, Baratheon spat harshly. “Has the king any reason to suspect me of being disloyal? King Rhaegar deemed me trustworthy and I cannot see any way how I could have betrayed his trust. I am not one to break his word ever. But If I grand loyalty I demand trust in return.”

Connignton could not believe what Baratheon had said. How much of a fool was the Lord of Storm´s End? knowledge

“You have nothing to demand.”, he spat back, smugness vanishing from his voice. “You can be lucky the king had enough mercy for you to not burn you and your whole castle to ashes, like you had deserved to. Believe me if I had my way, nothing had remained of you. Your head had been put unto a spike to show everyone what happens to a traitor and if you should ever demand again anything from the king, I promise you, you will not even have time to regret it. You should be grateful for those punishments. They will be the greatest mercy you will ever get. And now leave from my sight if you do not want that I regret my generosity.”

Lord Stannis looked as if he was about to say something in return but fortunately decided to keep calm. Nevertheless Connington could recognize a vain pulsing on his forehead. He nodded shortly, disgust written on his face and left the room.

Tired he let himself sink back unto his chair. This had been an interesting talk. Equally worryingly and satisfactory. Satisfactory because he could show Baratheon his whole contempt and emphasis on the threat which hung above his head ever since the rebellion. It earned him great content to see Baratheon helpless in his clutches, particularly since he knew that Connington had just been a vassal of the Baratheon´s before the whole affair had happened. The Baratheon´s were proud if nothing else.

Though the talk between him and Lord Stannis had also been worryingly since it showed how less he could trust the Baratheons and the rest of the Storm Lands as well. As it seemed his vassals had relied behind their former Lord Paramount to show their dissatisfaction with his and Aegon´s reign which was something, he could not allow, lest that way of thinking spread and nestle in the heads of men.When he had taken over the title of the Lord Paramount of the Storm Lands, he had hoped he could correct their disloyalty and put them into place. The restrictions and high taxes were only a means to an end to make clear that such an behaviour would not be without punishment.

Only in case of the instigators, house Stark, Arryn, Tully and of course Baratheon those had truly been meant as punishments. In case of their vassal, or former vassals, they served as a remainder who it was they owed their loyalty. They should give them the possibility to redeem themselves in his eyes by accepting their punishment and bear it without complain until he said otherwise but now it seemed, they still had not learned their lesson. Maybe another reminder would be for the best.

Connington sighted deeply and got up to return to his duties as the Lord Regent and Protector. It was truly an exhausting responsibility.

Visenya Tagaryen

The music flowed through her fingers and danced across the room. She felt it vibrating through her whole throughbody and made it glow with an inner fire. Visenya felt as if the music would set her body aflame. For a few seconds she even saw dragons dancing in the rhythm of the song she played.

It was a sad song that cast its tunes into the high ceiled chamber and she loved it. Its sadness and melancholy often making her feel as though she could see her father sitting next to her, watching every move she made with her fingers on her beautiful harp. Note for note chimed, evoked only by her fingers. She could feel each rendered deep inside her and when the last finally died away she felt as if she had just lost a long time friend.

Carefully and full of awe for her precious instrument she placed it onto the table beside her and looked up into the face of her teacher. Elaerys was a beautiful woman. Born as a Lyseni pleasure slave with long silvery hair and blue crystal eyes, she was the most beautiful woman Visenya had seen so far in her life, however, it was not for her beauty she had been so famous but for her wonderful voice and her great talent with the harp.

A few years ago, only shortly after her father had died, Lord Velaryon had gone onto one of his many voyages his house had been so famous for. After all they had always been great seafarers and traders.

One of the ports his ship had also pulled in at had been Lys, famous for its great beauties who possessed the appearance of the long ago doomed Valyriens. There in one of the many brothels each city possessed and Lys even more so, he had discovered the beautiful singer and harp player Elearys. Reminded of the late King Rhaegar and moved by her great talent he had decided to free her and bring her back to Westeros where she had served in his household ever since.

“My compliments, Princess. Was I not to know better, I would have surmised you have played the harp your whole life, particularly as this song is not easy to master. You can take pride in your talent.”, Elearys said with her exotic Essosi accent. Visenya thought, this only made her more attractive.

She beamed with pride for she had indeed taken lessons in her harp play just for a few months now. Besides of ridding it was her favourite activity by far and she valued it more than she could even verbalize. It made her feel connected with her father who many said to be a great player of the harp himself. Often he would have ridden out and visit the ruins of Summerhall and every time he returned home, he would have composed a new song, which he would recite at court as well as among the common folk. Often these songs would center on long lost loves and tragedy. There was a reason Rhaegar was said to be a melancholy fellow, after all.

Once Ser Arthur had even told her how her mother had fallen in love with her father by listening to his singing during the tourney of Harrenhal. She knew scarcely anything about her mother apart from this. That she loved songs of tragedy and sadness. This and riding, she must not forget. This was also the reason, Visenya loved to ride since it established a connection to her mother, too. Though she also loved it because she was good in it. It was comforting to know that she was still able to be good in something despite of what people like Connington would think of her.

Almost six months had passed since she had started to take lessons by Elearys. Her harp itself had been a present to her fifths nameday from Lord Velaryon, though she had just gotten it two months later when Lord Velaryon had been visiting the Red Keep. Half a year ago the Ironmen had started revolting against the Iron Throne and Ballon Greyjoy, their liege, had declared himself king of the Iron Islands. For the Iron Islands to become an independent nation had been an open slight against the crown, a slight the crown would not tolerate lest Aegon's reign would be looked upon as weak so that as a consequence Lord Connington had decided upon sending the royal forces to put an end to the Greyjoy Rebellion, as it had been named afterwards.

Since Lord Velaryon was in possession of the greatest fleet in the whole kingdom and the army had to take the rebellion down on the land of the Ironborn, Connington had been dependent on the support of Lord Velaryon and his ships hence he had to visit King's Landing in order to help taking down the rebellion. Upon his arrival he had been greeted by the king himself who had been additionally accompanied by Visenya.

Still she was able to remember precicely the spreading tension when in the following conversation that had followed the greeting of Lord Velaryon he had also started asking Visenya whether she was pleased with the harp he had send her to her fifth nameday. Equally she could remember how Connington`s face had turned the colour of a deep red, always an indication for a intense outburst of emotion on part of the Lord Regent.

Almost stuttering Lord Connington had tried explaining the situation by claiming that the harp had not been given to her so far as he was in doubt of her ability to be able to play on it, deeming her too young to be eligible enough to master such an complicated instrument with only five years of age.

Visenya had known, even then, that if this conversation had not been hold in front of the whole court - after all the greeting of a well known and loyal lord of the crown who would soon lead the fight against the unfaithful Ironmen was not an everyday event - Connington would have never come up with such a stupid lie.

He was not interested in anything Lord Velaryon had to say if his derogatory behaviour towards him was anything to go by but in front of the whole court, she presumed, it was not something he could allow himself to show. Besides the confiscation of royal property was not a fact to easily ignore of, even if the royal member who was stolen from would be her. It would lead to wrong assumptions when the rumours about the bad treating of her would turn into facts.

“Thank you, Lady Elearys.”, she said joyfully and offered her a shy smile which was immediately returned by Elaerys. She was aware, of course, that Lady Elaerys was no true lady but she thought her case had to be similar to Lord Varys who was not a true lord, either, but whom everyone addressed this way nonetheless.

And besides she thought her teacher deserved that title more than many of the other members of the nobility she had met so far. Not only because she looked like a true lady but also because she would always display a special kind a grace no matter if she played her instrument or just walked along the Red Keep. Another aspect which made her noble in her eyes was the fact that she seemed to care about her fellow man, something many nobles did not even bother to pretend.

“There is no need to thank me, little Princess. It is you I have to thank for the possibility of having such a willing learner. Trust me, it is a really exhausting task to teach someone who is unwilling to learn. When I still lived in Lys, one of my” she hesitated shortly,” ...employees bid me to teach one of his daughters. She was a terrible brat, lazy and without patience, and did not feel even one bit of the music like you do.”

Visenya felt her blush deepening but was also a little worried whether she had caused some unpleasant memories of Lady Elaerys to reappear. It was not only her kindness which made her feel more joyful in the Red Keep but also the reminder she presented that she might have not the luckiest of lives but that there were still thousands of people who suffered even worse than she did. She could not even imagine how Elaerys had to suffer as a slave and particularly as a pleasure slave.

She knew not much about what a man and a woman would do with each other but she had heard enough about it to know that it could be very unpleasant for the woman especially as it seemed to be such an intimate act. She did not want to consider such a life.

Before she could reply Lady Elaerys, there was a knock on the door and at Lady Elaerys call the visitor entered. It was Ser Jaime. Guilty Visenya pondered that this was one of the few rare occasions, she was not glad to see the knight since it meant that her harp lessons were finished for the day. She wanted to learn more, also because Lady Elaerys had promised her that they would soon start with her singing lessons. At the beginning every student would first learn how to play without singing since it was still to complicated for a starter to do both at the same time.

“Ser Jaime, how pleasant to see you.”, Elaerys greeted him. As an respond Ser Jaime bowed his head slightly towards her direction. “It is pleasant to see you, too, Mylady.”

“I guess you are here to take my little princess with you. Though I am surprised to meet you today. I assumed Ser Arthur might fetch the princess.”

“I am afraid I am. Though I wonder why you would suspect me and Ser Arthur to change our shifts, Mylady?”, he asked perplexed and did she not recognize a touch of worry?

Lady Elaerys` expression turned bewildered, as well. “Forgive me, Ser Jaime. I took it, you had already heard the news. Your sister and her husband are at court hence I thought you might meet with them today. I understand just too well not being able to see your loved ones for years.” She looked up to him apologetically and folded her hands over her lap.

Ser Jaime turned pink, though Visenya could not understand the reason.  
“Yes...yes, she is...but my duty as a knight of the King's Guard is momentarily my utmost priority. I am sure I will meet her at an later time, though.”

Visenya thought, he sounded quite stressed and also his expression was not as joyful as she expected it to be after getting to know that he was about to see his sister for the first time after several years of absence.

Also Elaerys seemed to notice that this was not a topic Ser Jaime wanted to ponder about, so that she did not dig any further. “Why, I think I will not delay you any longer then. My Princess”, she faced Visenya, “we will resume your lessons on the morrow but I expect you to keep up practising in the evening.”

“I will, Lady Elaerys.” Eventually, she nodded with her head as a token of farewell and departed, Ser Jaime at her heal, the room.

They had just passed by a few passages when she asked Ser Jaime “Why I am not allowed to have any longer lessons with Lady Elaerys, Ser Jaime? I love playing harp and Lady Elaery claims, I am really good at it.”

“My Princess forgets that she has still other lessons to partake in. Your Maester and Septa Urnella would certainly not appreciate it if you missed your lessons just to play harp.”

“I do not think that Septa Urnella would be sorry about it. She does not like me and is always so strict.”, she said casually. It was nothing new to her that the people did not seem to like her, though most of them would show their apparent dislike of her more subtle, at least if they hold some important position at court or were too afraid of Ser Jaime´s presence to dare some insult towards her.

In case of the Septa, however, this seemed to be different. Since her fourth birthday she would take lessons of the female arts from her Septa but at no time she would display any sign of how she had been told the servants of the Seven were ought to be. The faith proclaimed itself to be merciful and kind to everyone, no matter if one were a noble or a commoner. They would preach of the love of the mother, the justice of the father, the wisdom of the old maid and all the other aspects of their god. So far though she had seen rarely any of these qualities in any of the members of the faith she had met.

Even the High Septon made her feel suspicious of his good intentions, and he was the faith´s leader while her Septa was the opposite of kind and merciful. Whenever she would make a mistake, for instance use the wrong greeting in an imaginary conversation, she would look at Visenya with her cold, strict eyes and her mouth would turn into a narrow line.

But this was not all of it. She would even go so far as making allusions to bastardy and scandalous affairs from which these bastard children resulted. Even at five Visenya knew the meaning behind those words. The Septa looked down on her because of the marriage of her parents which many people still looked at with unintelligible eyes as she could tell.

“What gave you this idea?”, Ser Jaime asked her worriedly. Always was he on edge whenever something seemed to bother Visenya; though in this case he did not need to worry. The Septa's words could not hurt her, she had heard worse; and that from people having a much greater import for her than such a silly and bitter old Septa ever could have.

“I believe, she thinks I am a bastard.”, she said, trying for casuality.

Ser Jaime stilled abruptly, forcing Visenya to turn around to face him. “When did she say that?”, he asked, angry expression warping his face.

“Well, she had never stated it directly but from what she always preaches I guess this it what she thinks. But I am not sad about it, I do not like her, either. Though I wished I had less lessons with her. At least what the Maester teaches me is interesting and important and he is much nicer, too. “

At her words Ser Jaime let out a silent laugh though his expression was still serious. “Why do you laugh, Ser Jaime?”, she asked him, surprised by his reaction.

He hesitated but then retorted “You just reminded me of my sister. She could not understand the sense of her lessons with her Septa, either. Always said she would like to learn to fight like me. When we were young, she got terrible angry with my father since he treated us so differently.”

She had never met his sister but she could whole-heartedly understand the wish to learn how to fight with a sword. Always when she visited the courtyard and watched Aegon or some other boy or knight train, she wished she could simply join them and clash her sword with the other boys. But when she had once asked Lord Connington for permission he had just looked down coldly at her and uttered she should not even dare to humiliate the king even more by adding such an inappropriate behaviour to her other flaws.

“Oh, I did not know that. Your sister is certainly an interesting woman.”

Again, the mention of his sister did not seem to sit well with her knight since his expression turned even more worriedly. “Yes,...she certainly is.”

She wanted to know what made him so worried but guessed it would be better to avoid any further questions towards this matter. Except for a few little secrets she could entrust Ser Jaime everything and whenever she needed him to listen to her worries he or also Art would be there for her so that it seemed only fair to her if she did not dig to much into his own secrets but let him keep some privacy.

After another few minutes in which she told him of her lessons in harp play, they reached her chambers. It was one of the few days in which she would take her lessons with her Maester and her Septa just after the meals which meant she would have a few hours for herself. Normally she would take this time to walk through her secret passages and she hoped, she could do this today as well.

If Arthur would stand guard at her door there would have been no opportunity to do so as he was even more serious than Ser Jaime – maybe because he was older than him or because he had known her parents better – but she was sure he would not just allow her to disappear from her rooms without any guard who could protect her if needed.

“You will not cause any trouble, will you?” It was some kind of unspoken agreement that he would not bother what she did while she was in her chambers but she had to promise him in stead that she would not make any trouble or get caught in it.

“No”, she said but could not hide her cunning smile that made the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. Ser Jaime did not particularly know about the secrets passageways for she had never divulged this secret to him. Nevertheless he was bright enough to gather that something was amiss. He had to take notice of her odd and frequent absence from her chambers and that she sometimes appeard to know things she was not supposed to know about as had been the case when she had told him about Lord Connington´s and Lord Velaryon`s dispute about the Lord Regent´s refusal to lead the attack against the Ironmen himself.

She was convinced that he had guessed from the very beginning that she had somehow disappeared mysteriously from her chambers when she had first discovered them. But he knew her also well enough that he could not quite hinder her from vanishing and even more knew that it was one the few things she really liked of her life in the Red Keep and that she needed it if she did not want to go mad in the endless hell of boredom and isolation. Therefore they had more or less developed their implicit agreement.

When Ser Jaime saw her smile, he chuckled, though his eyes still bore a serious expression in them.  
“You will not get caught in any kind of trouble, either. I am serious about this, Princess. It will do neither of us any good for you to get hurt.”

Now, equally in a more serious manner she swore “I promise, Ser Jaime.”, and added after a short pause “I do not want to get hurt, either.”

“Well, if you can promise this, I will let you stay in your chambers while I keep watch.” He opened the door for her and waved with his hand in a gesture which invited her to go inside. She nodded gracefully, though stopped shortly to ask Ser Jaime one last question, which she had already wanted him to ask for a few weeks now.

“Is it not boring to wait and...stand guard for the whole time, Ser Jaime? I do not think I could do this.”

He looked pensive for a few second but then answered seriously. “I would not say that this task is... boring. Sometimes exhausting, although you do not need to do anything else but stand around, but boring...I cannot say so since it often gives your time to think and consider your actions, which at times is as important as actual fighting, especially if you are a member of the King's Guard.”

“Really? I did not know that. But in a fight is it not important to act as fast as possible so that your opponent does not beat you first?”

“Yes, mostly this is the case but sometimes it is better to think before you act otherwise you could do something you might regret later.” Again there was this pensiveness and sadness in him that Visenya could not decipher.

Not totally satisfied with his answer as it made her want questioning him further but knowing she would not be able to momentarily she said “Thank you”, and closed the door behind her after she had offered him a last, little smile.

As soon as she heard the door shut behind her, she made way to the wall next to her bed and pulled at the lose stone which would reveal the secret passage behind. A feeling of pure excitement rushed through her whole body at the sight in front of her when the mechanism came finally to a halt. She still did not capture how the system worked but every time she used it, she had to admire the cunningness of those who had constructed such a smart and complicated mechanism.

Besides of riding and playing harp, exploring the passages of the Red Keep was her favourite activity. Each time she would discover new ways and exits, of whom some even lead to chambers she had never set a foot in before, like the chamber where the small council would be hold. When she had first discovered it, she had also listened to the dispute between Lord Connington and Lord Velaryon. It had been the first time for her to have heard something more interesting than simple conversation between servants or nobles who were visiting the court. The chamber of Aegon she avoided ever since she had listened to his and Lord Connington´s conversation about her. She did not need to hear any more of their dislike of her.

When she entered the passage and closed the entrance behind her she considered which place she might explore today. More often than not she did not understand what was spoken about when she listened to the council meetings and if she was honest, she wanted to spend as few time as possible in the proximity of the Lord Regent even when he was not aware of her presence but these meeting had nevertheless some attraction to her.

However last time, she remembered, when she had wanted to get to know whether there was a meeting or not something strange had happened. There had been a disgusting sweet smell in the air, almost like an exotic perfume and she had been sure to have seen a shadow moving around the next corner. Ever since she wondered whether there were other people who knew about the passages and thus had kept at a distance from these parts of the hidden maze. Even now, months after, she was unsure if she could return to this part of the castle.

Before Visenya could further quarrel with herself though the sudden idea made his way to her mind that maybe some of the younger lords and squires would be at the courtyard training their sword fight.  
She hardly had the possibility to watch them since she would often be in her own lessons, mostly with her terrible Septa or Aegon would train with them so that she could not watch, either.

At the moment, though, she knew he could not be there since he accompanied Lord Connington during some meeting he had with Lord... Deron...Duncan? She could not remember his correct name anymore, though fortunately it was of no importance for her, either.

Hasty she made her way through the passages, always being careful to take the right turning. If she had not made any mistake she would arrive at the stables from where she could walk across to the courtyard. Shortly she cursed her haste which had caused her to forget to change into different clothes. Now she would probably ruin them with the whole dust and dirt which covered the walls and the floor. It would also make her more recognizable but maybe the others would not notice her anyway since she did not show herself often at court and wore luckily a simple grey-blue dress.

She breathed more erratically as she finally reached her destination. She actually had some spiderwebs in her hair and more than once she had to suppress a sneeze caused by the dust. With one eye she looked through a hole in the wall and made sure that no one would see her when she exited the passage. She was fortunate as there was no one to be seen any near the stallions so that she carefully opened the exit and hushed inside. Immediately she was greeted by the smell of horses and a smile began to grace her face. She loved the smell of horses. It reminder her of freedom and the few joyous moments she got to experience in the Red Keep without any criticising eyes and unfriendly company.

In the corner of the stallions she even discovered her own pony, a beautyfull dark-brown lady she called _Spirit_. While she passed her little pony she made sure to give her a short and loving stroke which was answered with a pleased neighing. She then continued her way towards the courtyard from where she could already hear voices echoing in her direction.

No one passed her except for a an elderly servant who wore several books with him. He was possibly send by Maester Pycelle since he was not the youngest anymore to fetch some books from the library for him. After a few meters she rounded a corner from which she could look at the courtyard. Disappointingly though she could also see that the Master-at-arms was already gone and the training was finished. Nevertheless Visenya distinguished a group of young boys who were still gathered at the courtyard, laughing and cursing.

When she got nearer though she noticed that they were not simply gathered but surrounded another boy amid them. Not only because his clothes were of a less good quality but also because he wore an expression of fear on his face Visenya noticed that he did not belong to the other boys. No, this boy was not a member of the nobility. His hair was red, similar to Lord Connington´s and his body was shaking slightly. He tried moving back when one of the young squires shoved him back hard enough that he stumbled and fell to the ground. The boys around him started laughing.

At the sight of this Visenya felt anger pulsing through her body. _How dare they?_ The boy had done nothing wrong and even if that had been the case, the others were five. It was not a fair fight. Upset she thought how it could be that nothing she was told by adults about honour and kindness was right? Most time she could not even distinguish a hint of the promises of gallant knights and heroism all of those famous songs sang about. The faith did not seem to be merciful and kind and these squires and also many of the older knights and lords appeared to be stupid bullies without any ounce of honour and compassion for their subjects.

Not even the Tyrells and their vassals and knights showed altogether signs of how Visenya imagined an honourable lord or lady to be. Sometimes there was no avoiding the thought that their generous behaviour felt more like show than true compassion. All of it. From their beautyfull dresses and smiles to the Tyrell´s charity work and their gallant knights who fought in tourneys against each other, proving their bravery and grace with the lance.

For Visenya though nothing of this felt genuine, no matter how much Magaery might applaud and praise her father and his companions, claiming this was how nobility was ought to be. For her there was no true compassion if your actions were only dependant on the idea to make the commoners love you and were not triggered by the believe to want to help them in earnest.

Besides she could not understand the amazement of the people towards these tourneys. At least not the one towards the jousting. A knight might have talent with the lance but it did not show whether one was brave and honourable or would protect those who could not protect themselves. Additionally in a real fight one would not defend oneself with a lance but a sword or another more practical weapon.

Yes, this was again one of these moments, she had to wonder what the gods had been thinking by creating such contradicting creatures since even Art and Jaime would participate in those tourneys although they had often enough told her that such superficial events like the joust was not what counted but how one would act when confronted with true life. Only then one could show his actual worth, absent from any observing eyes.

Obviously these boys had shown their worth, namely that they had none. Still angry she marched towards them. “Stop it immediately and let him be!”, she tried to command with as much confidence as she could muster.

Alarmed the squires looked around to make out the source of the voice. The biggest one, whom Visenya supposed to be the head of the little group, found her first. When he looked at her he poked his nearest companion against his side with his elbow so that also the rest of them took notice of her. An ugly smirk graced his face and his gaze wandered derogatorily up and down her small and dirty figure.

“What do you want? Are you even allowed to be here, servant?”, he asked with a strange high pitched voice which did not suit his appearance in the slightest. Gleefully his companions grinned and obviously were pleased by the thought that they could punish her for her insolent behaviour.

It appeared that they actually did not recognize her, which would be good at any other moment just not now when she would need her whole authority to order these stupid boys from stopping to hurt the servant boy - she guessed he belonged to the stallions – and to hinder them from attacking her instead.

Therefore she made herself as big as possible, put her hands on her hips and tried to look despite her smaller stature down at them. “I am Princess Visenya Tagaryen and order you to stop your stupid assault on this boy. If you will not there will be dire consequences for all of you.” Content she watched as several of the squires looked at her with an alarmed and worried expression.

Also the boy who had spoken with her displayed a short flicker of anxiety but it vanished only moments later. “What do I care what a bastard has to say. You cannot order me around. My father is a member of the small council.”

Nervously she recognizes the coat of arms which was embroidered on his tunic. It consisted of several red crabs on a white background. House Celtigar. The squire had to be the son of the current Master of Law, the future Lord of the claw island, Androw Celtigar. Now, Visenya herself started to worry. She wished Ser Jaime would be with her. No one dared to say anything to her as long as he or Art would be there otherwise situations similar to this would happen, particularly when she would be around companions of Aegon. They had developed the same attitude towards her as her brother and Lord Connington.

She was just glad that she did not start crying at being insulted as a bastard. When the Lord Regent called her such or Aegon made his allusions it hurt much more than any of these pigs would ever be able to. Nevertheless she had to take a deep breath before she could answer.

“I am no bastard. I am a princess of this realm and if you will insult me any further I swear you will regret it.”

“As if we are afraid of a bastard-princess. Everyone knows that you have nothing to say.” At his words the others begun to nod their heads affirmative and her nervousness increased.  
Behind the squires the stable boy sat still on the ground, changing his gaze hasty between the two of them. “Please, Mylord. I have to go. If I cannot...” He was interrupted by a fist hitting his head.

“I said you should be silent, stupid.”, the Celtigar heir said while looking down disgusted at the stable boy. Suddenly heat rose in her body and Visenya could hear a silent ringing in her ears. Before she could even consider if her action would be the smartest of decisions she had thrown herself at the boy in front of her and started hitting him with her tiny fists.

At first surprised by her sudden assault, the boy fell to ground with her before he got his wits back and shoved her from him. He shoved her so hard her head hit the ground and for a short moment she thought she might see stars dancing in front of her eyes. Luckily they vanished seconds after and she was able to come to her senses again.

“You stupid bastard!”, the boy cried at her while his face had turned crimson. The squires behind him had again an expression of alarm drawn on their faces. “Bastard”, he repeated. In her shock she wondered if all of his insults were as uncreative as this and if he knew any other swear words. His repeated insult of her as a bastard did not made him appear any brighter.

“How dare you!” he continued and went after her. Meanwhile she tried to fall back when he suddenly lifted his hand as if with the intent of hitting her. Trying to protect her face she lifted her arms in front of her head. After a few seconds had passed and nothing happened she heard excited murmur coming ahead of her. She looked up and saw that another boy had appeared and had grabbed the other one´s arm in a thigh grip.

He was almost a head larger than any of the other squires and had deep black hair and light-blue eyes. The one who had tried to hit her looked angrily at him and tried to free his arm from the other´s grip. Finally the new boy let his arm free which caused the other one to stumble back.  
“Go away, stag. You have nothing to do with this.”, he snarled.

The black haired one offered him an angry gaze of his own. “I do not think you have the right to hit the princess, Axel. And if you should think otherwise you are an even greater idiot than I thought.”

Axel´s face flushed deep red. “And why should this interest you? You should know best how to hurt royalty.”

Now, she could see the black haired boy frowning and how a tiny bit of pink graced his cheeks as well. Something Axel had said had obviously had stung a string of the other boy.

“I would suggest you to disappear, Axel. You might think otherwise but I am sure the King's Guard will not be as lenient with you for hurting their protégé.” Gazing at the other squires who were still gathered around he said. “I suggest you the same.”

The boy next to Axel started speaking, nervousness in his voice. “Everyone knows that the Lord Regent and Aegon do not care about her. Why...Why should the King's Guard even bother with her?”, he stuttered.

Visenya watched the whole conservation with growing anxiety. Indeed, why should the King's Guard care about her besides of Art and Jaime and even then could Aegon not simply order them to stop protecting her? The thought had never occurred to her but now it let pure fear flooding her mind.  
What if Aegon would actually order everyone to stop caring about her? Momentarily the ones who treated her as if she was truly a bastard only did it to please Lord Connington but what if there should be the order to treat her such? What would she do then?

“If you do not vanish I will call for help and we can see what will happen. Shall I?” He made a movement as if he wanted to let out a loud cry when Axel Celtigar´s face turned almost white and interrupted him. “You have won, Stag. We go but do not think we will forget this. My father is still a member of the small council. I swear you will regret this, stupid.”

With a nod of his head he made his companions leave the courtyard. Just when they had vanished from her view she dared to stand up and went straight to the stable boy who still sat on the ground and held his blue coloured cheek. She stretched out her hand and made him grab it so that she could help him up onto his feet. The still unknown boy helped her and offered the stable boy a second hand.

“I propose you ask for a blood-eagle. It will help the swelling to abate.”, he spoke in a soft voice.

“Thank you, Mylord.”, he answered but did not dare to look up. “And you, my Princess.” Clumsily he made a bow in her direction. “I am afraid I have to go now, please, if I am to late I...I...”. It was obvious that he was still too much afraid to speak coherently with them so that she dismissed him.

“Of course, we will not stop you. Though I hope you will take care of this swelling first. I would not want for it to worsen.”

He just nodded and vanished as fast as he could from the courtyard, stumbling and almost falling back to the ground.

“This was very brave of you to do and help him, my Princess. I hope you are not hurt much, though.”

She turned towards her unknown saviour. He was still standing next to her and did not show any hint that he wanted to leave. “You was brave, too. Thank you for your help...I am sorry but I do not know your name.” She was sure his name was not truly _Stag_.

“Forgive me, Princess.” He turned pink. “My name is Orys. Orys Baratheon.” She detected a hint of nervousness in him though wondered for which reason he should be nervous. Then what he had said hit her and she knew why he seemed so nervous. Robert Baratheon. He is related to Robert Baratheon, the man who had murdered her farther. Therefore he was called _Stag_. Obviously he could distinguish what she thought since he made preparations to leave.

“My Princess, I will not bother you anymore. If you will ex...”. She interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “No, stay. You do not have to go. I...I...am not bothered by your presence.”

Somehow she felt weird to speak with one who was related to her father´s murderer and she was not fully sure that she actually wanted to speak with him but she had only to remember how he had helped her just moments ago and how she herself was treated for something she had no guilt in. Or at least she tried to convince herself of that. It would be unfair to mistreat him for something he could do nothing about as well. By the way she was curious.

“If you would not mind, Lord Orys. How are you and...Robert Baratheon related?”, she dared to ask him hesitantly.

He looked surprised but answered quickly. “He is...ähm...he is my uncle. My father is his younger brother. Stannis Baratheon, the current Lord of Storm´s End. I am his heir.”

“I did not know that house Baratheon is still standing. I...” At the expression of his face she stopped, suddenly embarrassed. How could she be so tactless? “I am sorry. I did not want to...you know...” She felt her cheeks burning.

“No matter. But yes my house still exist but now we have lost our title as Lord Paramount and we have to pay high taxes and everything but my father does not like it if I speak about it. I think he is a little bit angry about it...and this is also the reason we are in the capital. He wanted to speak with Lord Connington.” He stopped and then added more excited. “This is the first time I am in the capitol.”

Surprised she asked “Lord Baratheon is in Kings Landing? I did not know that.” A second later she thought she might hit herself for her stupidity. Of course he would be here if his son was. It was not as if he had come to the capitol all by himself.

Luckily, Orys did not seem to notice her mistake. “Yes, he is momentarily speaking with the Lord Regent. So far we had no luck. And besides you can call me Orys. Of course...just if you like, Princess.”

“Thank you,...Orys. If you like you can call me Visenya. Do you want to sit down?” She gestured to the ground.

“Will you dress not get dirty?”, he repeated worried but she just shrugged with her shoulders.

“I do not think it will make a great difference now. It is already dirty and I believe it has a crack, too.” Together they sat down.

“I am sorry that the others treated you so badly. I had thought that they would at least be less idiots when they would be in company of a Lady. And you are not even a simple pady but a princess.”

Saddly she thought that they would have probably behaved appropriate if it had been anyone else than her. He could not know that their behaviour was nothing new to her although it had never been as bad with someone different than Lord Connington or Aegon as today. For a short moment she had even felt afraid of those boys.

“You do not need to apologize. You cannot change that they are jerks and it is not your fault, either.”  
Quietly she added “I am also sorry for reacting strangely when you mentioned your name. I did not want to insult you or your family. It is just...a little difficult, you know. I wonder often how my life would have been if my farther and mother had not died. I miss them even if I have never known them.”

Visenya was surprised that she revealed so much of herself. Normally she was not the talkative type and especially not with a boy she had met just moments ago. But she felt well in his presence something which surprised her, too. Today was a strange day. Orys did not seem to be bothered by it, either, and answered her without any sign of being bothered by her reveal.

“I know that feeling. I often wonder, too, how my life would have been if my uncle had never rebelled against the Iron Throne. Ever since I came to the capitol the other boys have treated me as if I was dirt, sometimes even as if I had killed the king himself.”

At his words she flinched and Orys hurried to add. “Forgive me, I should not have said that. I am not the best at conversation you know. I believe I have inherited this from my farther.”

“I know what you mean. Normally I do not speak much with others, either. But I wonder from where you know the other squires. You seemed very familiar with each other.”

He laughed. “No, not really but you do not have to be a genius to notice that they are a bunch of idiots. We just know each other because I have trained with them for the last few days. The whole time Axel had to parade with the fact that his farther is in the small council but I have showed him that in a sword fight it does not count who your farther is or not is. I think this is also the main reason he dislikes me. The first day I made him eat dust and his face grew so red I thought he might burst.”

He started laughing again and Visenya noticed that she joined his laughter. When had she ever laughed together with a peer? She could not remember but it felt wonderful.  
After their laughter had died down a comfortable silence befall them.

“Tell me more about your family”, she said suddenly. Cursing herself inwardly for letting it sound too much like an order she added hastily. “I mean if you would not mind.” She truly needed more interaction with other people.

“If you would like.”, he said a little bit tentative but continued afterwards. “As you already know my farther is Lord Stannis Baratheon but my mother is from house Hightower therefore I have a lot of aunts and uncles on my maternal side of the family. They have married shortly before the rebellion and my mother got pregnant rather quickly after the marriage but when the rebellion broke out my father send her away to my grandfarther so that she could ask him to fight for my uncle but you know...my grandfather fought for your farther in stead since one of my aunts is married to Mace Tyrell. My mother was some kind of hostage during the rebellion and I do not think that my farther has forgiven Lord Hightower for it. He has a talent for holding a grudge.”

He stopped shortly and Visenya had to think about what Orys had just told her. It had to be strange to be hold hostage by your own family. She pitied Lady Baratheon.

“I do not think that I have ever met my grandfather though I think that his action had rescued my mother´s life because of the siege of Storm´s End. I think if my mother had been there with my farther, she would have starved. My farther only survived because of Ser Davos.”

“Ser Davos?”, she asked curiously.

“He is a smuggler, you know. Or has been, at least. Now he serves my father. I like him very much and he has become a good friend of my father as far as he has friends since my father is a very strict man.”

Everything Orys had told her so far sounded really interesting. She had never thought that it would be possible for a smuggler to become the friend of a lord. It was almost like something of a fairytale. She did not want Orys to stop with his tell.

“And what is with your mother? How is she?”

Orys´ face turned impassive and she recognized immediately that she had said something wrong.  
“She is dead. Died almost three years ago when she gave birth to my little sister.” A little smile appeared on his lips. “Sharin. She is cute and I love her but sometimes I wished nevertheless that my mother would still be with us. I can hardly remember how she even looked like.”

Grieved, Visenya looked at her folded hands. She had no memory of her own mother and could understand his sadness.

“I have an uncle, too, from my paternal side. Uncle Renly. He is the youngest brother of my father and not much older than I. The servants always say that we look very much alike. He is very funny, you must know but I believe my farther is often annoyed of him. Mostly they do not seem like brothers since there is such a great age gap between them and I do not see him much as uncle, either, but more like an older brother. I just wished, I could see him more often but normally I see him only when he allowed of leaving Griffin's Host."

Both turned pink at his allusion of the crown's hostages. After the rebellion they had been part of the deal with the defeated forces, each of the great houses was to offer one of their own to insure that no other rebellion would break out, though she herself held no contact with any of them, even those who were hosted here and not otherwhere like Lord Renly. The only example made, being the Starks and the Arryns, presumbly due to the fact that they were the only ones with a plausible reason for acting in rebellion. She thought it a fair and just decision and one of the last her father had done.

"But what of you? How is your family? I know, of course, that King Aegon is your older brother but what of the rest of your family?”

Again, Visenya felt nervousness spreading through her body but this time accompanied by a hint of jealousy. What could she tell him? That her only sibling wanted nothing to do with her? That he even seemed to hate her? She could not even tell him from her other family members since she had no close relationship with either of them, too.

Momentarily her uncle and aunt, Viserys and Daenerys were visiting the Red Keep. It was the first time she had met other members of her Tagaryen family but so far she could not say that she had any closer relationship with them as with Aegon. Four months their visit should last, the half had already passed. Before a visit had not been possible since according to Lord Connington Daenerys had been to young to travel from Dragonstone to King's Landing. Visenya though thought he just did not want anyone near Aegon which would also explain his dismissive behaviour towards the Martells.

None of them seemed to hate her or dislike her as Aegon did but Viserys treated her nevertheless not with more closeness as he would a servant and his behaviour was always quite patronizing as if he thought her stupid. In total he appeared like an arrogant prick with few wit.

With Daenerys there was the difficulty that she was even younger than herself even if just by several months but since both of them had a just shy character and not much experience with other peers – Visenya because most would keep a distance, Daenerys because she lived on a secluded island – any contact between them so far had not created any common ground between them and they had both no idea how to deal with the other.

Then there were the Starks but with them she had even less of a relationship than with her paternal side of the family. Besides of the names of her uncles – Brandon, Eddard and Benjen – she knew almost nothing about them just that her uncle Brandon and her grandfather were killed by her other grandfather which had to do with the whole rebellion a few years ago and that it had been her uncle, who had been additionally a friend of the usurper as Lord Coonington had reminder her of a few times, and who was no the current Lord Paramount and guardian of the North. One time Art had even told her that he had made the offer to her father to raise her in Winterfell, the castle of the Starks, and that it had almost caused another dispute between her uncle and father.

When she had heart about it the first time she had been very joyful since it made her hope that at least one part of her family cared about her but when she had never heart another word of them, she knew that his offer could not have been an honest one since why should they ignore her to such an degree if they would care about her?

“I do not have much contact with them since – you know – Aegon is always occupied with his duties as king and my maternal family living so far away...But my aunt and uncle...I think they are nice though I do not know them very good. They live on Dragonstone. It is our ancestral family castle and it is said that the whole castle is built in the shape of dragons, like our family sigil.”

She felt her cheeks grow hot but hoped Orys would not see it. He did not need to know how lonely she truly was. Looking at his face and his forced neutral expression she thought he might notice her true feeling nevertheless but he thankfully decided to ignore it.

“I would love to see Dragonstone sometime. I think dragons are more interesting than stags. So huge and dangerous and they can fly.” He sighted. “I would love to fly.” Excitement had mixed in his voice and Visenya could do nothing but to agree. She, too, would love to fly. For a few seconds dragons danced through her mind.

“Did you know that I have myself a bit of Tagaryen blood? My grand-grandmother was a Tagaryen, Rhaena or something like this.”

Surprised at this knowledge she looked him in the eyes, wanted to know if he made fun of her but when he showed no sign that he was not serious, she dared to believe him. Maybe she could ask her Maester about this later?

Suddenly they heard steps resounding over the courtyard and a voice shouting. “Orys! Orys!”.  
The voice was cool without much of an emotion in it. Alarmed she looked up and saw a great figure walking towards them.

“This is my father. I think I have to go but it has been nice to meet you,...Visenya.” He got up and extended his hand to help her onto her feet as well.

“It has been nice to meet you, too, Orys. I hope we will meet again.” She noticed that she meant what she said. She liked Orys Baratheon.

Orys bowed and offered her a smile. “I hope we will meet again, too.” He turned then and made his way to his farther. Even at a distance she could see that Lord Stannis was a strict looking man and that he seemed to be angry about something. She just hoped it was not about Orys. She waved one last time before she made her own way back, thinking that she had not quite gotten what she had originally planned but could be content with the day nevertheless although she would probably get something to hear about her dirty and now broken dress. She could not hinder the large smile that appeared on her lips.

Ser Jaime

When the door to Visenyas chambers opened two hours later he was surprised to see her dress completely covered in dust and dirt. He was even able to detect a stretch on it. Alarmed he knelt down so that he could gain a better onto her face. “Visenya, Princess, has something happened to you?”.

Surprisingly she greeted him with one of her rare smiles. It made her look even younger than she actual was. “You do not need to worry, Ser Jaime, I am well. But I assume Septa Urnella will be angry with me because my dress got dirty.”, she said casually as if she was not interested in the slightest what the Septa thought about her.

If what Visenya had told him beforehand about the Septa was true, she might have every reason to. As far as he knew Connington, it was probably not false to assume that he had ordered a Septa who would make his princess even more miserable. His disgust of that man grew with every day.

“And how is it that you got so dirty? I just hope it is not the result of trouble you got yourself stuck in, again.”, he said still worried. His concern only increased when her face took on a guilty look.

“What have you found yourself in this time, Princess? You better hope Connington does not get to know about what ever you have done.”

“It is not my fault that trouble always seems to finds me.”, she hesitated for a moment then continued. “Do you know Lord Celtigar?”

The question surprised Jaime even more then her disheveled appearance. Why would she ask him such a question? “I do not know him very well.", he confessed. "He is the oldest son of the current Lord of Claw Isle, Lord Adrian Celtigar, I believe, not to forget that he is the current Master of Laws.”

What remained unsaid was that he thought him as incompetent as Connington himself. Both had the same temperament as well and he was keen on flatter himself into his position. In total he regarded him as nothing more but a hollow puppet full of air.

Sadly the same description could be plied for most of the rest of the council. Almost everyone of the new council members– so far as one considered members who were in charge for four years as new – Connington had chosen, featured similar characteristics. They were young, they belonged to minor houses, were flatterers and were determined to lead Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms back to glory. The current mood which had started to fester in several parts of Westeros showed the sheer opposite though. This was particularly true for the regions who were former rebellious ones.

As Jaime had foreseen Connington´s Iron Fist tactic was now backfiring. The lords could not suffer the Lord Regent´s restrictions and high taxes anymore, no matter how he might justify himself with the good of the realm. Jaime could just hope that this would not lead into another rebellion.

Their momentarily advantage was that the realm still set high hopes in their king as soon as he would come of age, similar as it had been when Aerys had still been king and the realm had hoped for better times as soon as Rhaegar would follow his farther on the throne. Additionally several houses were aiming for a marriage between the king and one of their own daughters, now, that this possibility was still open as there had never been a formal betrothal between the royal family and one of their subjects as it would often happen when the princes and princesses were still children.

Many grasping houses would want to take their change to marry themselves into the royal family though Jaime could already guess who would made the great catch. In the end it would come down to a race between the Tyrells and their daughter Lady Magaery – already a close companion of the king – and his own family. He knew his farther well enough to know that he would not miss a second change to marry his legacy into the royal family.

“I do not think I like him.”, Visenya responded on his vague answer which perplexed Jaime even more. Not that he could not understand this sentiment but as far as he knew the princess had never been in any close contact with the Master of Laws and hence could not know what kind of man he would be.

“Why would you not like him? As I see it, it is not an unreasonable notion but where do these sentiments come from? Has he mistreated you in any way? If so, I promise you, he will not do it again.”

Visenya seemed to evade his gaze since she looked down on her own feet but after a few seconds she answered with hesitation in her voice. “It is not him but...just now...I met his son. He is called Axel and he is a really stupid boy. I cannot stand him and he had hit one of the stable boys, too.” The last sentences she added rather hastily.

The way she spoke about it, it made Jaime guess that more had happened. “Has anything happened to you?”, he repeated his beforehand question.

“Ser Jaime, why do ask always after my well-being?”, she asked timidly in return.

He did not understand what the princess was about today. Why would she ask him such strange questions? “I ask after your well-being because I care about you”, he responded her sincerely,” and because it is my duty as a member of a King's Guard to protect the royal family and as a knight it is my duty in general to protect the innocent.”

The answer left a genuine but reserved smile on her face and in an innocent voice she replied “So it was not wrong that I defended the stable boy, or would it be? Since he was an innocent and the others were five. It was an unfair fight.”

Curious about what had happened exactly, he said. “But you are no knight, Princess. You have others who will fight for you. You should not have gotten yourself into trouble just for this boy, no matter how noble your motivation.”

Now her countenance darkened. “But I want to fight for myself. It is absurd that I am not allowed to. If I could defend myself I would not have to be afr...”. She stopped herself before she could finish the sentence and alarmed he saw that tears had suddenly gathered in her eyes Jaime could not understand the reason for.

“Princess? What is the matter? Is there anything you want to confine in me?”, he asked insistently but still none the wiser. He knew that the princess usually did not burst into tears anymore when a member of court had disgraced her in any way and he could not see any injury, either.

“No, I already said I am fine. Besides Lord Orys came to my aid. He will be a true knight just like you and Art are.” The princess tried discreetly to wipe her eyes and surprisingly he saw that now a small smile graced her face again.

“Who is Orys?” He tried to ignore the knot in his stomach at her praise of him. The princess did not know any better and he could just pray that she never had to.

“Orys Baratheon. He is the oldest child of Lord Stannis. His uncle is the usurper so that it felt somewhat strange to speak with him at the beginning but he was so courteous and had defended me and the stable boy and it would have been unfair if I treated him any different. And in the end he is not at fault for what his uncle did, you know.”, she finished almost hushed and as if she wanted his reassurance.

“No. It is not.”, Jaime responded but could not help the feeling of dread at the thought what Connington and the rest of the court might think about this little encounter between the princess and the heir of Storm´s End. It would not make the reputation of the princess any better and would only further isolate her from the rest of the court.

"Still I do not understand why this would make you dislike Lord Celtigar.”

“If his son has proved to be such an idiot I would think his farther is the same. Why else should his son behave as he did?”, she said as if it was evident.

“You mean as both are related to each other they have to be of equal character? Since they belong to the same house?” It was not uncommon of her to think thus for it was often the case that a man or woman was held to the same expectations as was their house they belonged to.

“Yes!”, she exclaimed.

Jaime thought it a strange insinuation for the princess to phrase since was she not herself a perfect example that just because you belonged to a certain family did not mean that you shared the same characteristics with them?

Incited by this thought he found his mind wander to his own family. Tyrion´s situation was much the same as the princess´. He, too, did not appear to fit in the rest of the Lannisters and no one would ever consider him a prime example of the proud Lions of Casterly Rock. And if one must be honest, he hoped he was not considered one, either.

“Do you really believe this, Princess? Did you not just said that Orys should not be considered his uncle? That he could not be defined by the deeds of Robert Baratheon?”

Her expression turned pensive. “Yes,...but I have never considered...this? I just thought...I do not know...but maybe your are right. I am not...not regarded as a true princess, either, although Aegon is my brother.” Pensive changed to grieved.

“This was not what I have wanted to say. And you are a true princess. You must not listen to what Connington and his companions broadcast.”, he exclaimed insistently.

“I know but...”. Suddenly they could hear steps nearing their position. Moments later Ser Arthur came around the corner.

Surprised at the sight of them standing at the passage, he came to an abrupt halt. When he saw the princess and the state of her dress, his expression turned apprehensive but before either of them could say something, the princess addressed Ser Arthur.

“Ser Jaime and I have played _hide and seek_ but Ser Jaime was unable to find me.” She offered him a wide grin that seemed to reassure Ser Arthur although he still looked not entirely at ease.

“I am sure you have but I am afraid you have lessons to attend now, my Princess. The Septa is already awaiting you.”

Jaime had almost forgotten that Arthur and he would change guard. He had so many different things in mind. For a member of the King's Guard there could hardly be something worse. He always had to be concentrated and on guard.

“Yes, of course. Princess, I wish you all the enjoy with your lessons. Ser Arthur.” He inclined his head and hoped his little joke would lighten up the probier's pensive mood. When he saw her rolling her eyes and sending him a narrowed smile, he knew he had provoked the wished reaction. She waved at him one last time and she and Arthur vanished around the corner.

Only when they were gone he remarked on stiffness that had invaded his joints. Maybe he could go and fetch something to eat or take a short nap. Or he could ask Prince Lewin to spar with him. Annoyed with himself for his inept attempts to distract himself from the obvious he tried to consider how to proceed. While he had watched the princess he had convinced himself that he had no chance to go and visit his sister but now his excuse was valid no longer. 

When the had at first learned about the visit of his sister and her husband – their oldest cousin from the maternal side of the family, Devan Lannister – he had not known what he was ought to think about it. It had been such a long time since he had last seen any of his family and particularly the long absence from Cersei had demanded a great deal from him. Worse, the isolation from his family had not helped him in the slightest to decide how to deal with his father and sister. He still could not simply accept their decisions, less their deeds but he could not hide the fact that he had missed his family or more precisely Cersei, either.

That Cersei was married for almost four years and had children with a man who was not him had made it even worse and he could not imagine reaction when he would see Cersei again. It did not help him that every time he tried to consider a solution, his head would start to throb heavily. Jaime sighted and run his hand through his hair.

His feelings were so contradicting. On the one hand he wanted nothing more but to run to Cersei and see her face again. On the other hand he could not imagine a worse idea. Momentarily he did not know where Cersei would be so that it would at least give him time to prepare, as far as he could when confronted with a woman like his sister.

The best would be, he decided, to return to the White Tower and get a short rest, then he could think more clearly and...At the corner of his eye he saw quick movement. He stopped abruptly and turned into the direction he had seen the movement come from. Unfortunately whoever it had been he had seen was too well hidden in the shadows cast by the afternoon sun. Carefully he moved closer when he heard a soft hiss, this time coming a few meters left from him.

“Jaime”, a voice hushed he knew just too well and seconds after he recognized the golden shimmer of his sister´s long and wonderful hair. She approached him from the passage left from him, a passageway usually used by the servants.

When he saw her standing there, illuminated by the bright light of the sun he thought his heart would stop its beating. No memory could withstand the actual beauty of his sister standing now in front of him. Her hair was even more golden, her eyes shone in a bright green fire come alive and her whole appearance spoke of a grace he only could imagine an angle to posses. How could he have forgotten how beautyfull his sister was? He even believed that their long absence had made her beauty increase, if this was even possible.

“Cersei”, he managed to breath out between his lips after a moment which he considered had to have lasted hours.

“Jaime”, she repeated in her angelic voice and offered him her sweetest smile. “Follow me.” He felt as if he dreamed when he followed his sister through passage after passage before she finally vanished into an empty chamber. He could not even say where his sister had lead him but he followed her nevertheless.

As soon as the door closed behind him Cersei was upon him and covered him in kisses. His mind abandoned him and he felt his body take over. His lips were on hers, their hot breath mixing in the air and his hands were running through her hair. It was so soft and he already begun to forget how it had felt when even this simple but so wonderful gesture had not been possible. How could he ever had abandon her? They belonged together, now and always.

His thought were abruptly interrupted when Cersei pushed him away from her and it felt as if he had actually dreamed and was now rudely awoken from the best of dreams. Both their breath was erratic and the fire of his sister´s eyes shone in brighter light than he had ever seen. It almost reminded him of the wildfire which had turned the city into ashes just few years ago. This thought, more than anything else, helped him to return to reality.

“Cersei”, he whispered into the silence of the room.

“Brother.” Her voice was as lovely as ever. “You have found me.” Confused he thought that it was actually her who had found him but his mind was still too blank to make any different than simply nod. “You have taken your time. I almost thought you would never come.”

“I had to...to keep watch of the...princess and...”, she interrupted him before he could even finish his sentence.

“You are forgiven, brother.” Somewhere in his mind a silent voice warned him that something about this situation was wrong but he could still not quite distinguish what it could be. “Oh Jaime, I have missed you so much.” She threw herself into his arms. Automatically he returned her hug.

“I missed you, too.” And he knew immediately that he spoke the truth. He had missed her more than he could say.

“I do not believe you.” Startled at the drastic turn of mood he looked at her and saw the hurt expression on her face.

“Cersei. Of course I have missed you. How could you ever...”

“If you had missed me you would not have left me.”, she hissed at him.

He felt a hint of annoyance arise and answered now free of any whisper. “I have never left you and you know it, sister. It had been you who had returned to Casterly Rock not me, do you remember?”.

“Of course I had returned home. Which choice did you left me?” Her voice got an hard edge.

“Which choice? You and father had...”. Alarmed Cersei hissed. “Will you be silent! Do you want everyone to hear us? Father was right. I should have never come to you.” Angrily she made preparations to leave.

He knew he would regret it but despite of it he could not hinder himself from stopping her. “No, Cersei. Wait a moment.”

“What do you want, Jaime? If you do not want to help me and just throw accusations at me I can go without your presence.” He had to grab her arm to hinder her from vanishing through the door. Stimulated by his annoyance his mind begun to settle.

“What is going on? And what do you mean that I left you no choices? If you want to imply that it is my fault that you had to marry Devan I can reassure you that had not been my intent and you know it.”

Since he refused to let her arm go she turned back to him though still with fire in her eyes. “I still do not believe you. You had abandoned me! Me and father´s plans.” Her voice was icy.

He ignored the last sentence and responded equally icy but not completely free of hurt. “You was the one who refused to answer my letters. Even of your betrothal I was told only by Tyrion.”

“Of course, this dwarf would tell you about it, not that you cared.”

“I care if my sister gets married and let Tyrion be. Just because you and father refuse to speak with me does not mean everyone of our family has to be so stubborn.”

“We are not stubborn, brother. We just want what is best for our family. Something you refuse to see!”

“And marrying our cousin is the best for our family?” He saw a smile grace his sister´s lips.

“Jealous, brother?” At her words he would love nothing more but to shake her. Of course he was. He loved her, even after what had happened. But best would be, he did not told her lest she would use it at an advantage against him.

“If you had not abandoned me I could have been yours. Myrcella and Joffrey could have been your children and not Devan´s but you had chosen different.”

“You cannot believe that?” he responded incredulous. “If I had helped you with your plans how do you imagine we could have been together? You as Queen and I your secret lover? It would have never been possible no matter if Robert or Rhaegar had returned victoriously from the Trident.”

“Of course it would have!”, she almost spitted. Cersei had never been one who could deal well with protest.

“And what would you have done with Lyanna Stark and Visenya?”, he asked seriously and with loudly beating heart.

At the mention of the name of Lyanna Stark, Cersei draw a face. “The Stark-girl is dead.” She said nothing more which showed Jaime more than any words could have done.

With anger and cold dread deep in his stomach he asked Cersei. “Why are you here?”

She tried to hold his gaze but had to look away after a few seconds. With her white hand she gestured into the air. “Father had send me and my husband to deal with Connington. He had demanded a report about the situation in the West which made father consider that this would be a good possibility for Devan to prove himself in the capitol and to strengthen our position at court, of course.” She made a short stop to give him the possibility to ask questions but he gestured her to continue.

“Father knows that Connington is afraid of us and the power we wield therefore he had disgraced him all this years ago and send him home. As if that could stop us.” She laughted scornfully.

At the last aspect he had to agree with his sister but the first one he knew her to be wrong. “Connington is not afraid of father or any Lannister. He believes himself above such matters. When he had dismissed father he just wanted to show his new-found power. Connington is too stupid to notice when he should be afraid. How he leads the realm should have been enough of a proof of this.”

At this his sister looked irritated as if she could not understand that there were people who did not live in fear of house Lannister. “Then he is an idiot.”

“As I said.”

“Which will only make it easier for us to implement our aims.”, she continued, not hearing a word he said. Her words made him immediately distrustful.

“Of which aims do you speak?”

“Nothing that would concern you, Jaime, since it looks like that you do not see yourself as part of our family anymore.”, she said cooly.

“This is not a joke, Cersei. What have you and father planned?” He grabbed her on her shoulders.

Indifferent at his assault she rolled her eyes but responded. “You do not need to worry. It is nothing drastic. Not different to what every other great house would aim at. Since I could not marry Rhaegar...”. He saw that the thought was still bothering her, probably more than she would ever admit, ”we think that the Tagaryens owe us royal marriage. As soon as Myrcella will come of age, she will marry Aegon while Joffrey will marry his sister.”

Although he knew that such an possibilty was not absolutely unlikely he was surprised of the confidence Cersei spoke with. “You know that the Tyrells are aiming for the same, do you? And Mace Tyrell is momentarily more secure at the court than we are. Why do you think the crown would choose us?”.

She looked at him as if he was naïve but when he still did not change his serious expression she said. “Maybe the second marriage will not be necessary. It was father´s idea and if I am honest I do not want anything of this Stark-bitch any near my Joffrey. I do not think I could bear it if that brute would become the future Lady of Casterly Rock.”

Jaime felt his annoyance turn into anger. How could she dare to speak about the princess in such a way? Then the full impact of what his sister had said, hit him.  
“What about Tyrion? When I entered the King's Guard he became the heir of Casterly Rock. Father cannot simply disinherit him.”

Anger was now also seen in his sister´s eyes. “Why not? Tyrion is nothing but a shame for our family. Joffrey is more worthy than this little dwarf could ever be.”

“I think we have different notions of what is a shame for the family then.” His sister tried to hit him but he caught her hand before it could reach his cheek. Furious she tried to free herself until he let go.

“I see. You are a coward and an idiot and I am happy to be free of you! But I can say you this – do not interfere with my plans, Jaime. You could regret it dearly.”

This time when she wanted to leave, he did not hinder her, just watched after her as she disappeared from his view. He sighted deeply. He could not claim that this conversation had been as good as he hoped it to be.


	6. Red Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unsuspected ending of a tournament will lead to even darker consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am sorry for the delay. I wanted to take my time with the next chapter, to make it as good as possible. By the way I did not have the time or the concentracion to write as much as I wanted to so that this chapter is actually only one third of the original planned one. In the recent future this will not change, either, but I promise to continue nonetheless. Additionally a short warning since the ending of the chapter might get quite dark.

Visenya Tagaryen

“Let me see your stitches.”

Startled she looked up to see Septa Urnella staring down at her with her customarily stern expression. Deeply lost in thoughts, she had not been aware of the septa's presence until she had approached her. Nervously, she passed her work to the septa to be inspected. She could already imagine what her reaction would be. Visenya was very well aware of the fact that she did not exhibit much of a talent in the art of embroidery.

For a second she was sure to spot a satisfied smirk on the septa´s face when she turned her work from one side to the other to regard it from all sides.

“Princess Visenya, if you ever want to distinguish yourself in the female arts I am afraid _this_ will assuredly not suffice. I am shocked to see your skills so lacking. For a princess, and the sister of the king no less, your progress is exeedingly meager.”

The septa's voice revealed no more than the sincere concern any member of the faith would show its protégé when confronted with the fact that said protégé failed in any progress, but by now Visenya knew that such behaviour was only a means for present witnesses. Indeed, the septa bad to be greatly pleased with her failures and when alone would remind her of them repeatedly. The circumstance that there were witnesses to her embarrassing failure, had to cause her septa a glee of utter satisfaction.

“I am sorry, Septa Urnella.”, she responded mildly, treading carefully to not let her mien of impassiveness slip.

There was no reason for her to add more words to it. It was pointless to try to make the septa like her. From the very beginning she had clarified that she took her for naught more than a bastard who had to be treated the way, every bastard in the realm would be treated. Actually, not a surprising display of behaviour, did she belong to the increasing number of members of the faith who advocated a more fanatical path, believing that everything opposing of the faith of the Seven had to be made extinct. Unfortunately, scandalous affairs such as the second marriage of her father with her mother was something the hard-liners of the faith would regard in such a fashion and as an result the fruit of their union as well.

In the eyes of her septa she was not worth the protection and kindness of their god or gods – if Visenya was honest she did not understand the concept of one god who was seven at the same time – and hence would be treated as what the septa saw her. A bastard born from an unholy relationship.

At least this was the explanation she had gathered for herself and which Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime had offered her as she had inquired them. Well, Ser Jaime had additionally called her a bitter old witch and something else, Ser Arthur had forbidden her to repeat when he had heard her calling the septa this way as well.

One could almost call her lucky that by now such behaviour was a common treatment towards her, thanks to Lord Connington and his several toadies, as she had henceforth developed a shield of indifference whenever there would be the occasion that she was confronted with people like her septa. Besides – as she had told Ser Jaime once – the negative feelings of dislike were mutual. What did she care what a bitter old woman thought about her?

“Your apology will not suffice. Just look at Lady Magaery. Do you see her failing in her duties? If you do not wish to shame your brother, I might suggest you take an example from her.”

Visenya looked away from her septa and let her gaze rest on her first lady-in-waiting. Magaery Tyrell sat only two meters away from her – seated on a soft cushion - and was deeply buried in her own – obviously excellent – embroidery. At the mention of her name, though, she looked up to meet the gazes of Visenya and Septa Urnella.

“Oh, dear septa, this is very kind of you to say but I hardly fancy my embroidery to be any better than the one of all the other ladies around, least of all the one of our princess.”, she said in her softest and lady-like voice and managed to look as innocent as the Maid herself.

The other ladies, Magaery had spoken off, were none other but Visenya´s further ladies-in-waiting. The two oldest daughters of Lord Bracken, Barbara and Jayn and the only daughter of Lord Royc, Ysilla.

While both Bracken-girls had deep brown hair similar to Visenya´s own, Ysilla was a girl with soft golden locks and blue eyes. All three of them had been send to King's Landing following Visenya 's sixth nameday as it had been decided that she was now old enough to get proper company of her own.

Interestingly enough, albeit they were ordered to keep _her_ company, she had gotten no say in the choice of her ladies-in-waiting. As far as she knew that decision had been made solely by the small council which also explained the presence of Magaery Tyrell. She bet that the Lord of Highgarden could not let slip such a possibility through his fingers to make his only daughter the first of her ladies, a position which was usually seen as a great honour. _In my case, though, I am left to wonder whether this remains the case, too, as so far offers of keeping me company or being my friend are still due,_ she pondered somberly.

At first, when she had been notified about it, she had been joyful. It was a lonely existence indeed if you had no one apart of two knights of the King's Guard to keep your company and both of them had still different duties to uphold. She also had no objection to Magaery becoming her first lady-in-waiting. She liked the rose of Highgarden well enough although they maintained no close relationship. Most of her time Magaery would be with her brother and as far as she knew both had developed a deep friendship.

She did not mind her that. Often she felt that Aegon, as well, was too lonely or at least he had been in her earlier years. Now, an increasing number of young squires such as himself would visit the Red Keep and fill the court yard with their exited cries and the noises of swords clinging together. It had made the quiet and deserted castle of her earliest memories into a place of excitement and adventure, sadly though not always an adventure she would have liked to experience. She just had to remember the occasion half a year ago with stupid Axel Celtigar.

She still had to avoid him whenever they would meet occasionally in the castle. The Red Keep was not a small castle but it was not the largest, either, and hence there was not the possibility of not meeting an unwelcome character from time to time. Also thanks to him, her shield of indifference towards everyone and everything that would like to hurt her had improved. He had a talent for imparting mean things, though he took care to avoid them whenever Ser Jaime or Ser Arthur would be with her. As she had just guessed at their first encounter, he turned out to be a coward.

One time, she remembered, he had sung a terrible chant about a horse that considered itself a princess. It container in it a lot of vulgar allusions, the sort of Visenya was sure a lady her standing was not supposed to hear, and soon after she had noticed that the song had been obviously an allusion to her own person. _Oh my, the tale ends in remorse, the princess proves to be a horse._

Only the fact that he had not noticed Ser Jaime who had been disguised in the shadows of the passage they had been standing in and the following threat of her knight that _the Red Keep was not an healthy place for young squires to be_, had prevented her from crying out her embarrassment and anger. Axel had almost pissed himself at the sight of Ser Jaime so that the memory now held equal parts emotions of delight and fury for her. _Oh my, the tale ends in remorse, the princesses proves to be a horse._

“But Magaery”, Barbara interrupted her thoughts,” there is no one who is better in embroidery than you. The flowers you made last week were wonderful. Do you not agree, Jayn?”.

“Oh yes, they were magnificent.”, Jayn followed her sister in her praise of Magaery. Visenya felt a flush of annoyance swell in her. Although she did not know her ladies-in waiting for a long time, she was already aware of some of their most annoying habits. One of those she liked less of Lady Jayn was her habit of using exotic or complicate sounding words just to show off how smart she was. Visenya bet that Jayn did not even know how to spell the word _magnificent_. Not that she would tell her this. The septa might deem her not smart enough to handle the female arts or the rules of courtesy but that much even she knew.

“This is very gracious of you to say”, Magaery responded with a blush. “But as you know, the rose is the sigil of my house and my whole family loves flowere so much, it just would be a shame if I did not know how to stitch flowers.” Both girls grinned at her words.

“Very well, Lady Magaery. A lady should always show humbleness and modesty.” Septa Urnella offered Magaery an appraising smile, one of those Visenya knew she would never get even if she managed to stitch an image of Balerion the Black Dread himself.

“Yes, a lady and each faithful believer of the gods shall be good and humble at any times, may it be with rain or the shining sun.”, a very high and excited voice chirped into the room. The voice belonged to Septa Margot, a young and – in Visenya´s opinion - slightly dull looking woman who served as Magaery´s personal septa. So far she proved to be very keen on quoting phrases from the seven-pointed-star, the holy book of the faith of the Seven.

“Septa Margot is quite right. As the holy book says and the gods command, its servants shall live.”

Along with the other girl she nodded affirmative, though she had to think by herself that if the people were ought to behave humble the Tyrells did not prove to be the best of example in this regard. Their dresses and appearance were only one of those aspects, Visenya did not connect with the term humble and modest and even now Magaery would wear a dress which was more expensive looking than three or four dresses of hers together.

She knew that Lord Tyrell only ordered the best to serve his household, might it be clothes or music or even cooking as Visenya could tell after she had been invited once to have dinner with the Tyrells.

This memory held contradicting feelings for her as well. On the one hand their joyful cooperation, their obvious respectful and lovingly affection towards each other and the fact that they presented the image of the perfect family, Visenya had always wished for, made her feel a deep rush of jealousy which made it difficult for her to bear their presence over an expanded timespan. On the other hand, however, by all their pompous behaviour and smiles and cheers, the Tyrells at least did not hold any grudge against her.

In contrast to the majority of the court, they did not take part in the great dislike or indifference of her and treated her as she was entiteld to by virtue of her rank. Among them, she felt accepted. And despite of her lacking close relationship with Magaery – or at least any relationship she might call a friendship – she would always behave kind towards her and tried to cheer her up whenever she was too lost in thoughts or brooded, something that had happened more often in the recent time.

Even more was it her smart mind that marked Magaery a likeable fellow. It set her aside from her other ladies-in-waiting and was probably a quality she had in common with her grandmother, the Lady Olenna Tyrell. When she had shared dinner with the Tyrells, the mother of Lord Tyrell had been equally present, though usually she would be staying in Highgarden, the family's stronghold, and rule in her son´s stead. When confronted with the elderly lady she had surmised that she, too, had wanted to escape the loneliness without any family member to keep her company. Lord Mace´s oldest son Willas – or so she believed – had only reached maturity a short time ago and would soon be send to take over the rule in the Reach. Maybe then she would not be so lonely anymore.

In the afterthought, though, she considered that the Queen of Thorns - as she had heard people would call her – could keep good care of herself. During dinner she had been able to witness first-hand the sharpness of her mind and the one of her tongue, too. She even might had laughed one or two times when Lady Olenna had scolded her son or daughter-in-law with several harsh rebukes. What also had made her so intriguing had been that Lady Olenna did not treat her as a simple child but spoke with her as if she had a mind of her own – which she had – almost as if Visenya had been an adult. She had been seriously interested in what she had to say so that Visenya even had dared to comment negatively on Lord Connington´s dealings with the former rebellious lords.

In the past Ser Jaime as well as Ser Arthur had mentioned several times their criticism of the Lord Regent in that regard though she believed that the fact that she had listened to their criticism had not been intentional. At first she had not spend much thoughts on the information she had gained by listening to them, mostly because she still had been too young to understand much of the circumstances and the background of those and had not been interested much in the events of the realm, anyway, but when she had grown older and had started listening in secret to some of the meetings of the small council and additionally had been taught by her Maester of the history of the Seven Kingdoms, she had become more and more interested and aware of the strained situation the realm currently was caught in. She was a princess of the realm, after all, and hence she regarded it as her duty to uphold the peace of the realm if anything her Maester had taught her about the duties of the royal family was true.

More though the encounter with Orys Baratheon had opened her eyes for the shortcomings of the realm and the injustice those restrictions and taxes Lord Connington had sentenced several regions of the realm to. She knew Lord Connington well enough to know that he was mean enough to order something like this and besides Orys had appeared completely honest with her and she would not know any reason why he should lie to her in this regard. She also knew, now, that the Starks would be affected by those punishments as well. She might not have any connections with the rulers of the North- not to speak about her not present relationship with any of them - except for the fact that they were her mother´s relatives. Nevertheless they were family and she owed it to them to at least try to improve their current state, particularly since the common people would be the ones who would have to pay for it the most.

Often now when she was permitted to ride out with her little pony, she would notice the grim faces of the commoners in King's Landing and their sometimes hungry looking gazes as well. As she had heard in the recent meeting of the small council, gangs of highwaymen had stopped several deliveries of foods from regions like the Reach, the West or the Riverlands to arrive in the capitol and thereby caused the population of King´s Landing to go hungry. As it seemed the restrictions and taxes had caused the spread of poverty in several parts of the realm which had in addition of the last, although short and rather mild winter only worsened the situation up to the point that the consequences could not be ignored anymore. The rebellion of the Ironmen two years ago had done nothing to improve the situation, either.

Particularly the Riverlands and the Stormlands had taken their tolls since those were also the regions which had suffered most during the rebellion of the usurper and had had almost no chance in recovering from the wounds which had been caused to them in that time. Regarding this, she just hoped that at least Orys and his family were well as the situation was probably even worse than she, as an almost seven years old one could guess.

Interestingly though nothing of these concerns were recognizable during her lessons with her Ladies-in-waiting. None of them showed any sign of noticing the worsening situation in the capitol, they just kept talking about pretty dresses and sometimes even which lord each of them would marry in the future. As it seemed Ysilla Royce was set on marrying some young lord called Harry the Heir, the current heir of Jon Arryn whose marriage so far had not delivered him any children of his own. In contrast to Ysilla, the Bracken-girls had not yet chosen a particular husband but both were convinced that the unknown he would be like a hero from the songs they were so fond of. Just another proof how silly they were.

In one guess, though, both were probably right namely that Magaery would marry Aegon as soon as they would come of age since Visenya could not come up with any reason why this prospect would not materialize. Magaery exhibited, even in her young age, several qualities that Visenya would wish the future queen to posses and both – she and Aegon – were friends so that she could not imagine that a marriage between them would come to fail. They could be like Jahaerys and his Alysanne and maybe then the realm would start to prosper again.

Regarding her own future she had not lost much thoughts on which she would marry eventually. All she knew was that the time for it would come but as soon as this prospect was not in the foreseeable future she did not want to think about this peculiar topic more than she had to.

“Princess Visenya, I guess you better start anew with your work. Your results are nothing you would want others to see. A shame it is to have a princess not able to make embroidery correctly.”

Again her septa bore her one of her cold looks.

“Yes, septa.” Despite of her anger Visenya would not even consider to contradict her though she wished nothing more than to slap the septa or at least do something different than continuing the embroidery, something useful. Ridding for example or playing harp. At least in this regard no one could beat her. She even had started to accompany her plays by singing and no matter how much the septa might deny it, she knew that she had the talent. And it was additionally a female art so the septa was again wrong in her statement that she was a hopeless case in every part of those.

Ridding, too, would – in her opinion – not contradict the humbleness of the female sex. It was an healthy activity and if she looked at Barbra or the septa, she thought that a little bit movement would not hurt either of them in the slightest. Even Magaery would go out ridding occasionally or accompanied her farther and brothers on the hunt. She remembered faintly that she had even told her of possessing an own hawk for the hunt.

“Maybe you could try to stitch a dragon, Visenya, as it is the sigil of _your_ house.”, Barbra intervened innocently. ”But if this is too difficult for you, a horse would be sufficient as well.” Her smile curled into a mean grin as she watched Visenya´s reaction with huge eyes.

When Magaery send her a scolding gaze though she added hastily “Since you love ridding and horses so much, I mean.”

This act lend her just another reason to disliked the girl. Of all of them she was probably the worst, shortly followed by her younger sister who could not hide her smile at the insult her sister had thrown into her face. How foolish she had been at trying to make them like her in the beginning. At least she knew she was smarter than them as the lessons they would take together with her Maester had demonstrated. They might be better in embroidery and writing poems but at least she knew how to count correctly and no one could beat her in her knowledge of the history of the Seven Kingdoms. In her opinion this was more important than being a stupid lady and if any of them wanted to hurt her with their plays of words, she would regret it soon.

“This is a really good idea, Barbra. Thank you. Maybe you could start to stitch cakes then? I know you love them at least as much as I love ridding.”, she responded as innocently as she could master.

Her stitch did not miss its aim and seconds later Barbra´s face started turning bright red. It was common knowledge – at least in the area of their little gathering – that Barbra loved lemon cakes a little bit to much, the bulge at her stomach and upper arm revealed this just too well. Though before Barbra could return a heated answer of her own, Magaery intervened.

“Oh, I love cake so much as well. Dear Septa, please, could we not have some cakes next time? The lemon ones. I like them most and my uncle, Lord Redweyn, he just had brought several lemons from one of his voyages. We could ask the kitchens to bake some cakes for us. Please, I bet you would love them, too.”

Again, the septa offered her one of her rare smiles and the small dispute between her and Barbra was already forgotten. It was an ability that she envied Magaery, to be able to solve conflicts with no more than a few careful words. Always Magaery seemed to find the correct ones for every occasion since the blush and the shocked expression on the Bracken-girls´ faces had already disappeared.

“Oh yes, Septa. Please.”, the other girls pleaded in unison but Visenya kept her silence. She was not much of a fan of sweats and by the way her pleading would only animate the septa to deny their request and that she would not want to, no matter that she was still angry with Barbra. As princess she at least had to try to appear diplomatically albeit she knew that her respond only moments ago had directed in a completely different direction. If just her temper would not get the better of her sometimes.

“As most of you have shown excellent work I will consider it. After all, the king is soon about to celebrate his nameday so I think we could make an exception.” Her septa just could not let it be to reprimand her one more time.

The ladies and Septa Margot burst into bright smiles and giggles.

“But for now we will resume our embroidery, my young ladies.” Again she regarded her. “And you will try to correct the mess you have caused. I will not have it said that the servants of the faith will teach you no discipline.”

After another few giggles and a silent and annoyed sigh from Visenya they continued their work. Bored she looked out of the window, hoping time would move faster but by the state of the sun the lesson would last at least another hour. Better she tried to move on and improve her skills otherwise the septa might let her stitch the rest of the day as well.

* * *

Along with her ladies-in-waiting she walked through the passages of the Red Keep towards the court yard. It did not escape her conscience the comparison of a hen with her chicken. Behind her she could hear the others chatter excitedly with each other about the oncoming tourney in honour to the tenth nameday of the king.

For months the tourney had been planed for the king´s nameday would mark his first decade so that the festivities were ought to be huge and several folk, particularly her ladies-in-waiting, were convinced the tourney was meant to be the greatest ever seen in Westeros. Until then only a week was left, ere the festivities should commence and were said to last about five days.

Therefore knights and nobility from almost each part of the realm had gathered in the Red Keep and around the whole city to become witness to the whole spectacle. Weeks ago they had started to flow into the city walls and more were yet to come. In the recent days their increasing numbers even had begun to cause the problem as to where such a great amount of visitors should be housed as the city was nearly at its limits in providing for its many visitors.

After the city´s almost complete destruction so many years ago, one of the first things planned, had been to rebuild King's Landing since it served not only as one of the most important trading places in all Westeros equally was indispensable for the infrastructure and the going-on of the whole realm. As her Maester had told her, her father had also taken the possibility to not only rebuilt the city but to structure it according to plans which had already existed in the days of Jahaerys the first and were to allow the city a more convenient construction with wider streets and a better sewage system by that the smell of the city could be reduced to a minimum.

As Jahaerys had not held the amount of money to realize such a large project in those days and the expenditure to renovate the already existing buildings and streets, the city had grown into the known King's Landing over the centuries, a smelling city with narrow streets and dirt. After the fire, though, there finally had been the chance of improvement so that the city could be rebuild according to those plans to become greater and more suited for the noble line of royalty of the Tagaryens and the great kingdom of Westeros.

Still a lot of construction sides, scattered amid the whole city, indicated the foundation of those plans since her father had involved a lot of money and expenditure to reconstruct the capitol in the few months of his too short reign but once Lord Connington had become Lord Regent these plans had been reduced to incidentals with the consequence that the capital showed great similarities to an unfinished and miserably stitched embroidery. His focus had been set more on strengthening outer walls than rebuilding the buildings and streets. Most of the building and several of the minor streets were the work of the commoners only, since they needed to improvise to compensate the lack of progress by the royal family.

The smell had not improved, either, or at least she surmised as she could not imagine a time in which the smell had been even worse. It would smell of old fish and filth. Only occasionally the wind from the sea would bring a fresh breeze with it for which Visenya was very grateful. At least she lived in the Red Keep and hence could avoid the smell better than the commoners in the lower located city. Though the smell did remain nevertheless one of the main reasons for her often rides since they proved to be the only possibility to become completely free of the suppressing air in the capitol. Only then she could breathe.

In total these characteristics made King's Landing not the best of living places, it was an ugly sight to look at and worse for the nose. Therefore it still came to a great surprise to her to get to know that in the last years the population had increased in such a high scale which had not even happened during the days of Jahaerys the first. She would have thought that an ill fated fire such as the one her grandfather had bestowed upon the city years ago would repel the people, were they not a very superstitious lot. As she had heard, the ruins of Summerhall were still looked at with mistrust and grief and mostly remained avoided by travellers and that after thirty years had passed since the tragedy.

But obviously the urge to escape the exhausting fate outside the protecting city walls and the chance of obtaining a better life than the one of a simple farmer or even the chance of coming in contact or into the servitude of the nobility was a much to great appeal to avoid the city. Cities always held more the prospect of adventure and were the gathering place for every kind of adventurer, may it be a pirate, a smuggler, a whore or a simple trader or blacksmith. With most of the population dead, there had been much room to replace them and the opportunity to start a new life, particularly regarding the just finished rebellion of the usurper which had left several villages in ashes. The destroyed city had offered the best of chances for a new beginning then, something Visenya could understand, but still the number of people who had moved to the capitol – a capitol which was still in such a bad state – made her wonder how strange the people could be. If she had the chance of a new life, she would have avoided King's Landing.

Also the many visitors who had come into the city during these few weeks to partake in the tourney and the other festivities, were not repulsed by it, quite the opposite. Of course she did not know the exact number but by regarding the city alone she could see the amount of people who were streaming into the city. If she was correct, the city was now so full of people that some even had to take camp outside the city walls. Also the Red Keep was more populated than she had ever seen it. The least lords and ladies would want to let slip such a possibility for wealth, glory or marriage prospects through their fingers. At least one representative of each region was no present except for the Iron Islands. Still under scrutiny they had been tacitly disinvited.

Even from the far North it was said, visitors had arrived namely the Manderlys, an old house which had his actual origins in the South and therefore was a follower of the new gods. Maybe this was also the reason no other house from the North had been invited or at least had dared to come since Visenya knew that the old gods had no great support in the South, except maybe for the Blackwoods. She regretted that House Blackwood did not have any daughter, as far as she aware of. If so one of them could have been named one of her ladies-in-waiting and she would have been able to get to know more about the Old Gods. She was not prompted to believe that she and the New Gods would become close companions ever. Not after her experiences with it and its supposed hypocrisy.

Regrettably House Stark had no daughter of the same age at their disposal, either, and besides they lived too far in the North and absent of any port to manage such a long journey just to partake in a tourney which would be over within a few days. She would have welcomed the possibility to get to know her other part of the family since Aegon had the Martells which caused her another regular reason for jealousy.

None of them, neither Prince Oberyn nor one of his daughters or his niece, the Princess Arianne had ever been cruel to her or unkind. They treated her respectfully but with no warmness. Interestingly though in their case she could have understood any dislike towards her, was she the daughter of the woman her father had supposedly cheated the Princess Elia with, no matter the statement that the princess had been aware and in agreement of her parents second marriage as the princess had not been able to bear her father more children.

When she had consulted Ser Arthur, who by birth was Dornish himself, about their strange behaviour towards her, he had explained her in all seriousness that Dorne would never hurt little girls, no matter the deeds of their parents. Confused about their distance then and their refusal to believe her father´s words that the marriage of her parents had been in agreement of Elia Martell, he had exlpicated that the death of her sister Rhaenys and her stepmother had caused the Dornish great pain and was thought to have been able to avoid if her father had not send three of his King's Guard to protect her mother and that besides of her father´s words, which did not count any more as much as it had before the whole affair, no one had been still alive who could proof his words to be true. Their distance was hence the result of a deep hurt and nothing personal.

In the end it did not cause her jealousy to disappear, she still envied Aegon his good relations with a family who would never accept her as one of them, but she had now a greater understanding and was at least glad that in Dorne she was not considered at fault for the deaths of their princesses and the rebellion. She was just a reminder of their experienced hurt, the same as what Aegon would see her often times and which prevented her from disliking him for his often distant and sometimes even hurtful behaviour towards her. After all, if she had experienced such a great pain by losing sister and mother in front of her eyes and the deaths of your father only months later, she would feel the same.

Yes, she had lost great parts of her family as well, and sometimes she would miss them so much, it hurt, but she had still been too young to feel the whole pain of it as Aegon had and he additionally had such a large burden to bear after their father´s death. She just had to learn to live with it and hope that one day she would be regarded as a true member of their family. It was her greatest hope.  
Maybe a possibility to gain their favour would present itself soon for the Martells had arrived just five days ago.

Today another two houses had arrived. She believed them to be vassals of Lord Arryn, the Lord Paramount of the Vale. For weeks though she awaited another house to arrive. The Baratheons. She longed to meet Orys again and maybe ask him about the circumstances in the Storm Lands. Of course they had met only once but he seemed to be the closest of a friend she had and additionally would not feel like speaking about dresses and kisses. By the way she could use the possibility and get to know his sister and that smuggler Davos, he had told her about.

Unfortunately, each of them had yet to make an appearance, which was odd if she thought about it. The Storm Lands were not as far away as several other regions of the realm and besides, Storm´s End was located directly at the sea so that it would be easy for Lord Stannis to reach King's Landing by ship in a short matter of days. It almost arose the suspicion that they would not come after all. Maybe the dispute between Lord Connington and Lord Stannis had been larger than she had thought which had caused the Lord Regent to disinvite them, too, the same as it had happened with the Ironmen. She could just pray that her fear would turn out to be false.

At least the Lannisters had arrived – when, she was not sure about – but it would make, if no one else, Jaime glad to reunite with his family. She had suspected that the last encounter with his sister had not gone as well as he had wished for so that she now hoped that he could make peace with whatever reason he and his family had come into disagreement about. He was just too pensive whenever he would be bothered by something and she did not like to see him miserable. Unfortunately he would not tell her about his problems and she did not dare to ask as she still did not want to invade his privacy unasked.

Though with the Lannisters here, she probably would get to meet Lord Tyrion, Jaime´s younger brother, he had told her so much about. With his supposed wit and sarcastic remarks he surely would make for an interesting companion and more important someone who could comprehend being the outsider of your own family. The rumours of Lord Tywin´s shame were still told throughout the whole Seven Kingdoms, the same was for Lord Tywin´s rumoured dislike of his youngest child. She would be too glad to meet him, if only for the chance of getting to know more about her loyal guardian.

“Magaery, is it true that your father has ordered wild animals from Essos for the tourney? I have heard one of the servants speaking about that your uncle has brought peacocks and monkeys from his last voyage to present them during the festivities.”, Visenya heard Jayn asking Magaery.

“Oh, yes. As you know, this tourney is quite important for my family hence my father has made sure to order only the best.”, Magaery responded, voice sounding as if it was the most natural of things.

“The preparations for it have started months ago, after all, there is so much that can go wrong and I can tell you, it had taken my father a lot of organizing to avoid any unwanted trouble. He even has procured the gift for Aegon more than a year ago. It had taken quite some time but who would not do his best for the king? My father and Willas have chosen it together. I just hope Aegon will like it.”

Now, if it had taken so much time, he sure would be pleased by it. One could claim many things about Aegon but he at least had never displayed any sign of greed or ungratefulness.

“Now you have to tell us, Magaery. What kind of gift is it?”, Ysilla asked excitedly and with a demanding expression on her face.

“The gift will be a surprise, of course. We do not want Aegon to learn of his gift before the festivities even have started.”, Magaery responded with an apology audible in her voice.

Behind her, she heard a shocked inhale of breath followed by a high exclamation of Barbra “Oh, I know what it is! A sword! How could Aegon become a great warrior without a legendary sword?! Will it be made of valyrien steel?”

“You will see it when Aegon receives his gifts.” This time Magaery spoke more strictly and for a while the chattering came to an halt which allowed Visenya to think in peace.

Usually she did not consider herself as someone who hold great favour with tourneys and meetings. She was more distant to the people around, though she did not know if this was thanks to her upbringing or just part of her natural character. Among large amounts of people she had never felt quite well, mostly because there had been no common ground on which a conversation could be started or because most adults considered her too young or kept a distance to her in order to appease Lord Connington.

Additionally the kind of people she was supposed to be in company with, were too much of witless idiots or silly behaving ladies similar to the Bracken-girls. With women just like them one did not need to wonder that women were considered stupid and unfit to rule. Looking into her history book one hardly found a woman who had been in charge instead of a man. Such women were the reason for people like Lord Connington to look down on them simply because of the gender they were born with, which Visenya thought even more silly if one remembered strong women like her namesake Queen Visenya or Rhaenyra Tagaryen.

However, there were a lot of reasons why Visenya did not feel well in great gatherings of people and except for the rare moments in which she just wished for an honest friend whom she could trust her little secrets and thoughts with, she did not regard it as a great problem, either. There was a lot you could do in solitude. Riding or playing harp to name only a few examples.

Nevertheless, at the prospect of the oncoming tourney, she could feel the same excitement spreading through her body as her ladies-in-waiting. So many interesting people she would get to know and so many secrets as well. If she had learned one thing in the last years, it came always to an advantage if you knew as much as possible. Her superior knowledge had rescued her more than once if only to avoid Lord Connington during some of his moods or to escape some inappropriate joke, one of the squires around Axel Celtigar would have prepared for her. Besides there would be people from almost every part of the realm which just promised excitement and adventure.

“...just know the tourney will be wonderful. The singers will sing of it in thousand of years and the knights....oh how much I wished one of them would crown me the queen of love and beauty. And Lord Connington, I believe he has invited a group of mimes...”, Barbra went on.

Suddenly, in the distance they could hear the noises of voices shouting at each other and the neighing of horses. The five of them came to an abrupt halt, which caused the two guards who had accompanied them to almost stumble.

“Are the squires still training?”, interrupted Barbra her speech to ask. This time, Visenya answered instead.

“No, I would think at this time, they are usually finished. Moreover I have seen Ser Willem Darry coming from the court yard some time ago.” Actually she had seen him from her view out of the window during their lessons from before.

“Oh Magaery, do you think it could be the King's Guard then? I would love to see them fight. There is no one better than them.”, Jayn spoke as if she did not even exist but at least in one regard she had to agree with Jayn. There were no better fighters than the King's Guard and she as well would love to see them training. Due to her constant lessons it was rare an occasion that she got the change of watching them.

“Maybe, if Visenya is to agree we could go and watch them.”, Magaery half stated, half asked.

The bright smiles which had been plastered on their faces vanished to be replaced by almost annoyed grimaces but at least Ysilla offered her a pleading expression.

“Of course we can go.”, Visenya spoke quickly, cowed by their reaction. Silently she wondered if they had thought she would not allow it just to spite them. Was this the way they thought of her?

Hesitantly and a little bit annoyed by her own thoughts she lead the way, this time in a more hasty pace. Behind her she could hear the others trying to catch up. It took them only another two hundred meters before they rounded the corner and reached their destination. Against their expectations though they were not met with the sight of the King's Guard but a gathering of young squires, Aegon among them.

At first sight, however, she almost did not recognize him since his face was covered with the visor of his helmet. Only when she took a closer look at the sigil printed on it, she got aware of Aegon being hidden behind. He was mounted on a black horse but except for his helmet did not wear much of an armour. He was standing at the farthest end of the court yard, and therefore was looking straight towards their direction. Around him, along the edge of the yard the other boys were gathered and shouted at each other.

“You can do it, Aegon! Come on!”, she heard some of them shouting, however there were other callings as well, crying the name _Loras_.

Only then, did she become aware of the other rider, standing across from her brother. He, too, was clad in a helmet, which covered his face. A rose was printed on it side and revealed, among the shouting of his name, the boy behind it. Loras Tyrell, Magaery´s next older brother.

Given the view in front of them and the excitement of the squires, Visenya could guess fast what was going on. As it seemed the boys had decided to hold their own tourney of joust, also shown by the training lances in their hands of which some were already broken or were lying in pieces on the ground.

Looking around she even got to notice the dirt and bruises some of the squires were covered with. She supposed those were the once who had already retired from the tournament. Though interesting enough, none of them seemed especially disappointed but cheered and yelled along the others.

“Oh, they are holding a tourney!”, Jayn called out the obvious and clasped her hand in excitement. The others were showing signs of excitement at the prospect at watching them as well and hurried to make space by positioning themselves among the other squires, Visenya quite behind them.  
Unfortunately, now she was standing right next to one of the persons she was less keen on meeting. Axel Celtigar. However, he seemed too lost in the procedure happining in front of him to take notice of her.

A boy, wearing brown and sweating training clothes was about to pass Aegon his lance while another one did the same for Loras who was ridding on a almost completely white horse. Both, riders and horses were covered in sweat but did not look like as if they were not able to finish the final round anymore. Though she nevertheless wondered how long the tourney had lasted already. According to the exhausted even if excited faces around her, it certainly had to last since midday.

Suddenly one of the squires standing right in front of her made a step backwards to avoid some of the dust which had been gathering in the air at the hasty movement of the horses and accidentally stepped on her feet.  
Alarmed he turned around, “I am sor...”, he stopped when he recognized her and his eyes widened shortly. Visenya did not believe to have seen him before.

“Princess...Princess Visenya,...I...I...forgive me. I have not seen you.”, he finished his apology stuttering. Was he afraid of her or just shy?, she wondered. However, she was not angry with him and besides he had apologized in a very polite way, more polite than any of Axel Celtigar´s friends probably ever would. Thereby she did not regard him to be part of them.

“No apology needed, Mylord.”, she responded and offered him a little smile. She did not know his name nor did he wear any sigil by which she could guess his rank but better save than sorry, she thought by herself when she addressed him.

A light blush spread across his cheeks. “I am not a...lord, Princess. I am...”, but before he could finish his sentences and reveal his name, he was interrupted by Magaery.

“Tristan! I did not know you would be here but it is a pleasant surprise nonetheless.” Smiling she threw her arms around him which caused his blush to deepen even more. Turning towards Visenya, she continued “Tristan is the son of one of the knights in service to my father. We know each other for years. Since you are here”, she spoke again with Tristan,” I guess your father has decided to partake in the tourney?”

Still a little bit overwhelmed by such amount of affection he nodded. “Yes, Mylady. We have arrived just yesterday.”

“I am glad you did. However, have you partaken in this little tourney as well? Last I remember you were quite talented. And you can call me Magaery or have you already forgotten?” The compliment and her welcoming behaviour put a shy smile on his lips.

“No, My...Magaery”, he corrected himself. “ And _Yes_ I have participated as well but I...I am...afarid I am no match for king. He is quite formidable, so far no one has beaten him, only Loras - I mean Lord Loras – is left. They are...very good. It is the fifths time they have clashed lances.”

“Yes, Loras is quite talented in the chivalrous arts. He had always been this way, even when he had been no older than three. My grandmother would always say that each of us – me and my brothers – represent one important aspect of life. Willas is the smart one, born to inherit Highgarden one day, Garlan is his strong right arm, Loras is the perfect fighter and I have inherit the whole beauty of my family. You see, we are a perfect mix.”, Magaery said while letting out a small joyous laugh.

Falling to her words completely, Tristan simply nodded again and almost whispered “Yes, you are, My...Magaery.”

Magaery let out another laugh “My Magaery...I think it sounds cute. I would love to be your Magaery.” It sounded almost mockingly but the soft smile she wore on her face while phrasing it, made it sound less mocking but more affectionate. Visenya bet if she had tried something like this, the people would take it just as another slight.

Before the conversation could go on, a crash could be heard and she noticed that while listening to their conversation, she had hardly taken notice of the events going on in front of her. As it seemed, another lance had been broken by Loras who now held only sparse remains in his hand. Both riders rode to the end of the yard, yet, and prepared to turn direction though she noticed as well the insecurity with which Aegon would sit in his saddle. Loras had to hit him very hard and it almost seemed as if he would fall out of the saddle.

Magaery cried out in alarm “Aegon! He will fall!” However, her forecast proved to be wrong when Aegon managed to catch his balance again. Both riders had turned around and prepared to face each other anew. Cheers broke out.

Next to her the hated voice of Axel Celtigar resounded through the air “If Loras is able to hit Aegon one more time, he has won.”

A sudden tension spread across the court yard when all cheers ceased. Although not a real tournament, Visenya was able to recognize the same excitement in the crowds eyes which would have befallen any other tourney, she had ever witnessed before. With careful eyes the spectators followed every movement of the young squires and their horses, awaiting their final clash. To her great surprise, she felt the same excitement which was so obviously written on her companions faces rising in herself.

She wondered where this feeling might come from, had she never been interested in such things before but now she could hardly suppress her hands from shaking nervously. She felt her mouth go dry and her eyes wandering like magnets to her brother. His horse moved his hooves nervously across the floor and caused a new cloud of dust to fly through the air. Then in a sudden movement both rider rushed forward.

She almost thought her heart might stop beating in her chest just to move all the faster only seconds later. Every noise had stilled in her head, the loud pounding of her heart overshadowing everything. Just when she thought, she could not bear it anymore to continue watching the spectacle in front of her, Loras and her brother collided with each other. Still not able to hear anything, was she nevertheless able to see Aegon´s lance hitting Loras directly against his chest, the force of the impact such great that it lifted him straight out of his saddle.

Another few seconds nothing happened, the crowd not fully aware yet what had happened only moments before. Then they started cheering and crying, even louder than before and she knew that all the tension had not robbed her of her hearing. All the while Aegon rode to the and of the court yard, hands lifted victoriously into the air.

On the floor, covered in dust, Loras still sat and tried to look not too disappointed. Concentrating on his expression, though, she saw a short flicker of anger which he tried to cover as soon as Aegon dismounted his horse and approached him to shake his hand. On his face she could see a huge smile which only grew wider when all around her the squires started calling out “Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!” The last time she could hear Magaery and her ladies-in-waiting calling along with them. She herself was still too shocked of the whole affair to do anything but watch. Dull she came up with the thought that the triple repetition of “Long live the king” matched the same tradition the sword masters of Jahaerys the first would have used whenever their king had won a fight. She was surprised that any of them knew about it.

The cheers lasted on and when another minute had passed the shock seemed to have disappeared completely. In his stead an intense tingle spread through her body and finally she was able to come to the full comprehension of what had actually happened. Aegon had won. He had won. As far as she knew he had never done such in a tourney before and she had been there to witness it. She had been part of something that – to each degree – was very important for him.

Along with the sheer pride she felt for her brother, she also started to feel an almost overwhelming joy. Never had she been able to be simply part of something as exciting as this without being seen as an outsider, without having the feeling of rejection. Yes, she had not been directly invited but neither had the crowd given her the feeling of not being welcome. That boy, Tristan, had even talked civil with her, not something she would get to experience everyday. Overwhelmed by her joy, she fall in the cheers.

“Aegon! He has won! He is a true king, is he not?”, Barbra or Jayn – she did not know exactly – called out. Together with Magaery they had begun to clasp their hands while sending appraising and admiring looks into her brother´s direction.

Then another squire addressed Loras who now was trying to get free of all the dust which clung to his clothes. “You almost had him, Loras. If Aegon had not hit you, you would have won.”, he said jokingly.

Getting rid of his helmet, it took a few seconds before Loras responded “Since he is the king I would be surprised if I ever get the possibility or the talent to beat him. Aegon is just too good for me.”

His voice sounded casually but Visenya nevertheless thought that his words were not as honest as he wanted the others to believe. It might be because of his eyes which did not held quite the smile in them that was plastered on his lips. To be honest she had always believed Loras to be a little bit too vain and convinced of himself and his abilities. Again a sign that the Tyrells were not as humble as they wanted the realm to think. Though this fact did not change that Loras was a friendly young boy, always behaving quite charming towards her. She liked him as much as his sister despite his little flaws but who did not have some? She herself had to know best, not to be too criticising.

“I am sure, Loras, one day you will beat me in the ground.” Aegon said while clasping him on the shoulder. Teasingly he added “This day was just not today. No, seriously. In the future I do not think that I will have as much time for training as now while you will have every time of the world. I bet if you will continue this way, you even could consider to enter my King's Guard.”

At the last comment Loras seemed to cheer up quite the bit. Proudly he smiled at her brother and this time she could distinguish a genuine smile glimming in his eyes. Her brother had developed into a little charmer in the last years. The ability to wrap everyone around his finger had always been an ability of him even as a small child but now it had gotten even more obvious. It was an ability he would share with Magaery, probably another reason they got so well with each other. She never had a talent with words but remembered how often she had already wished to be able to charm the people around the same way as them. She bet, it would have spared her a lot of trouble and humiliation.

Apart from his charm, she likewise had to remark upon the cultivation of his humbleness. In her regard, Aegon held the promise of becoming one of the best warriors of Westeros and although she agreed with her brother that Loras was very talented as well, she nevertheless thought that Aegon was and would ever be the better of the two. How proud it had to make Connington to know that the realm would one day be led by a king who was not only smart of mind but also exhibited strengths on the field.

Particularly Aegon´s talents with every kind of weapon had to make him joyful since Visenya did not believe Lord Connington to be one too invested with the deeper knowledge of the world, stating once that a Maester was enough to provide the necessary knowledge and that their father´s seeking of it had not rescued him, either.

Had she not known his deep feelings he still held for her late father, she might had thought that it had been meant as a sign of disrespect. But of course she had known differently, recalling every mean and hateful commend he had send her because of it. Though his statement had been the original cause for deep interest in any kind of knowledge. Of course, this had not meant that she would read every book she got her hands on but reading and getting to know more about the world had been a comfort for her ever since, providing another link to her dead father as well.

Beside her Magaery suddenly breathed delighted “It is almost like a real tourney. Oh, I can hardly wait for the festivities to finally begin."

Something her first ladies-in-waiting had said, caused Ysilla who had not spoken at all since accompanying them to the court yard to frown. Then she called out “You are right, Magaery! Aegon still has to crown his queen of love and beauty.” Visenya was not sure if she had tried to make a joke or had meant her words seriously. One of the boys obviously thought her to have made a joke since he teasingly asked Aegon “Yes, Your Grace, where is your queen of love and beauty? Certainly you do not want to crown Loras, no matter of how much he might look like a girl.”

Immediately Loras turned bright red but before he could exchange any heated respond or more likely throw himself at the other boys, as he seemed eager to do, Aegon let out a loud laughter which made everyone turn around to look at him.

“Well, you might be right, Joremun, what would a tourney be without a queen of love and beauty to crown? If this is ought to be a legal tourney, we must not forget about this.”, Aegon sounded as serious that she almost believed him.

At his words though everyone turned silent, surprised at the sudden change of action. Then Axel Celtigar started laughing but when Aegon raised his hand, he quickly grew silent again.

Once more with seriousness tainting his voice, he said “This was not meant as a joke. Someone has to fetch me some flowers.”

Eager to fulfil her brother´s wish she saw Loras leaving the court yard. Except for him though none of the other squires moved, being still shocked into stillness. Meanwhile her ladies-in-waiting started giggling and she was sure to distinguish a light tone of pink gracing Magaerys cheeks. Whispering Barbra spoke into her ear.

“Oh, Magaery. I know it. He will choose you as his queen. Is it not lovely?”, all the while she would giggle and her smile grew as wide as if Aegon had chosen herself. Despite looking rather silly with her wide opened eyes – thanks to the sheer excitement – Visenya had to agree with Barbra. As Aegon and Magaery had been friends for so long and were possible set on marrying each other one day, it was out of question whom her brother might crown.

“It is like a dream.”, her sister spoke in a hushed and likely dreamy voice. “Now you will be like Aemon the Dragonknight and crown your queen as he had crowned the Queen Naerys, Aegon.” Well, Jayn could not remember any important fact of history but at least she knew that, though it would have been quite surprising if not as Prince Aemon and his Queen Naerys were rumoured to have been lovers, after all, and subject of several songs as well. But Visenya tried to suppress her cynical thoughts the second they had appeared. She did not want to ruin the peaceful moment.

The next minutes passed by, waiting for Loras to return. Then finally he came running at them, out of breath and with a beautiful red rose clasped in his hand. Aegon went straight to him and took the flower from his hands.

“It is a beautyifull rose, Loras. Thank you.”, her brother said, his gaze fully settled on the flower in front of him.

“Yes, it is one of the bushes my mother had planted. It is a very rare kind and has no thorns at all. I tried to choose the best, I could find.” While saying that he shortly looked past Aegon to meet the gaze of his sister. “I am sure she will appreciate that it is used for such an occasion.”

Slowly Aegon turned around to face her and the rest of her companions. Even slower he approached them and she was almost sure to see a hint of discomfort shining in his eyes. Next to her Magaery tried to present herself as graceful as possible and the Bracken-girls started to giggle again.

Annoyed she thought by herself that their stupid laugh only caused this important moment to lose some of its glory besides of interrupting the expectant silence which had settles on them when Loras had returned. They would only ruin the moment. Her gaze settled on Aegon´s face then, trying to see what was going on behind his eyes.

Three steps, two steps. When he was just only one step away from them, he came to an halt, surprisingly though he was now standing closer to her and Ysilla than Magaery who had placed herself on her right side. Did he consider to crown Ysilla? It would be quite the strange choice of his since she had never seen him displaying any closer affection to her than he would show every other lady except for Magaery.

Aegon swallowed, then looking her straight into the eyes, he said “To be my queen of love and beauty I choose Princess Visenya Tagaryen, my...dear sister.”, and offered her the red rose.

* * *

She was sitting on her bed, red rose holding in her hands. Behind her the last beams of the sun did cast shadows on the wall. Again and again she would turn the flower over, making sure that it was not an illusion, that it was real.

Could it really be possible for miracles to come true?, she wondered since a miracle it had to be, a miracle coming straight out of a song, singing of the heroes of the old ages. She had never given them much mind, not like other girls her age would do but now...now that she had experienced her own miracle... it was almost too overwhelming to even think about. Bursting with energy she released a long and loud laughter, trying to recall a moment in which she had been happier than now but there was no other. _This_ was the happiest moment of her life.

Visenya still could not quite fathom it and remembering the reaction of the squires and her ladies-in-waiting she bet, she was not alone with this sentiment. Shocked to the core when Aegon had held out his hand for her to take the flower out of it, she had believed her brother to have made a joke or even – and she felt quite embarrassed for having thought about it now – that he maybe had hurt his head while jousting Loras. But when he had not withdrawn his hand nor shown any sign for him to make fun of her, she had slowly dared to take the rose into her hand. Even slower had she looked up to meet her brother´s eyes and when their gazes had met, had been surprised to see an honest smile shine in his one.

Around her the silence had carried on, lasting longer and longer ere eventually one of the boys had started applauding and called out _Princess Visenya! The queen of love and beauty!_ Seconds later farther boys had called along ere Axel Celtigar and his group of friends and her ladies-in-waiting had added their cheers as well.

Afterwards on their ways back she had hardly taken notice of the bewildered expressions written on her companion´s faces nor the unusual silence in which they would walk back into the castle. She had been too lost in her own joy though had nevertheless understood their confusion. She herself had expected the turn of action the least.

Albeit she had lost almost every hope of gaining her brother´s genuine affection, a small part of her – the least rational one – had still hoped for it. Aegon was her brother, the only family she knew to any extent. She just could not accept it that there should forever be a distance between them. Therefore Aegon and his behaviour towards her was something very important for her and every time he would display signs of resentment, it would hurt her deeply.

Sometimes she even felt angry at herself for still craving his affection when most of the time they would spent time together, he would hurt her, be it on purpose or not. But then she would be reminded of how much a responsibility he would bear on his shoulders and which horrors he already had had to experience in his young life, of which some had been her fault.

Not every time, however, she would believe the accusations thrown at her, mostly by Lord Connington. The rational part of her knew of course that she would never have the intent of hurting someone – except maybe for Axel Celtigar and his stupid companions – nor would she have been able to cause the extend of damage the rebellion of the usurper had brought upon this realm.

She was hardly seven years old, after all. But if the people and even the ones closest to you would see you at fault for something you had no influence on, you would start to believe it yourself. And if so many people agreed on this fact, you even started to wonder if maybe they were right all along. Not even Ser Jaime or Ser Arthur could convince her to believe otherwise when the shame and guilt had reached her breaking point then.

Her whole life had rotated around those two different attitudes, like a pendulum swinging from one side to the other. On the on hand she wanted her brother´s affection, almost craving it, and was angry and hurt if she did not receive it, sometimes wishing naught more but to shake him for his stupidity and refusal to see her as his family. On the other hand she would feel guilty and not worthy of his love whenever she would see the hurt and anger mirrored in her brother´s eyes.

But now, with the occasions of this day the pendulum seemed to have come to an halt, now that her brother had broken free of his resentment for her. By offering her this rose, Aegon had shown his love, had accepted that they were _one family._ And not only had he shown it her in person but had proven it in front of the eyes of the court.

_Aegon loved her. Aegon loved her. Aegon loved her._ She repeated in her head over and over again. With no gold or other riches he could have caused her a greater joy. Her joy had been such great that she did not even explore the secret passages as she would normally do, not having the energy or the will to do anything else but to delight herself in the sweetness of this moment.

For hours she had merely sat here, on her bed, or had wandered through her chambers while letting the tourney repeat in her mind. With each repetition is seemed to become only more of a miracle. Not only was this thanks to the fact that her brother had chosen her as his queen of love and beauty and had shown his affection by it but even more the fact that he had not chosen Magaery in her stead. Not only Visenya but everyone else including Magaery herself had been sure it would be her, Aegon would choose. In hindsight she even felt kind of pity for the rose of Highgarden since it had to be quite embarrassing to be left aside by one you regarded as a close friend, which Aegon was to her.

Magaery´s life was the scribt of the perfect life Visenya had wishe for all her life. Considering it, she guessed Aegon´s rejection of her – might it have been on purpose or not – had to be the first time that her life had not taken the direction she had expected and wished it to take. The first slight she ever had to experience. As the only daughter of a mighty and well-beloved house, which was additionally in good graces with the crown, though this was hardly a surprise. No one would ever dare to hurt or insult her.

Regarding this, Visenya felt her pity slowly fading. Was it really so bad that for once in her life Magaery did not get everything? Had she really had to feel pity for a girl which life was as perfect as it could be while hers in contrast had so often been determined by hurt and humiliation? And this would be not all of it, either. Not only was Magaery admired because of her position at court – although she thought this might be one of the aspects that mattered most for the Bracken-girls as they tried to flatter Magaery at every turn – no, Magaery would be favoured in every other aspect as well.

Her septa praised her in heavens highs, the nobility would contemplate her the most well-mannered lady and even Lord Connington tried to be more obliging in times of interacting with her. It was even as good as settled that one day she would marry Aegon. And truth be told, a lot of this was well deserved. Magaery was smart, graceful, particularly for such an young age and worst of all, she was beautiful. When Magaery would reach maturity, she would be one of the most beauiful noblewomen in the whole Seven Kingdoms.

Erratically Visenya stood up from her bed and placed the rose as carefully as possible on the table next to her bed. Slowly she approached her mirror, hanging at the wall. She knew that she need not think too much about it, knew that it was stupid and would not change her situation in the slightest but...it did bother her that no one would ever regard her as beautiful.

When she had been small, it had not bothered her at all but now that she had begun to compare herself to the other ladies at court and especially Magaery it had gotten quite conspicuously how much she lacked the beauty a princess was ought to posses. This would only be enhanced by the fact that she was a Tagaryen-Princess who had always been known for their almost unearthly beauty.

Regarding her reflection in the mirror she noted that the only part of her face that could be named beautyful, were her eyes, the only part revealing her Tagaryen-heritage. The rest was the solely heritage of her mother, or at least so it was claimed as she wondered how she could look like her mother who had been such great beauty that her father had fallen in love with, which she was absolutely not.

Particularly one aspect of her face would bother her. Its long and small shaped form. Too often it had been object of cruel jokes, comparing her with a horse. She only had to remember the terrible song Axel Celtigar had sung about her. _Oh my, the tale ends in remorse, the princess proves to be a horse._ In general this had not helped her at all to build up confidence in herself. The only ones to have ever said that she was beautiful, or at least pretty, were Ser Jaime, Ser Arthur, and one time even Lady Elaerys.

Not wanting to ponder about it any longer, she turned away from the mirror. Whether she was beautiful or not was not crucial at this moment. The only thing that counted right now was that Aegon had chosen her to be his queen of love and beauty even rejecting Magaery with it. All her beauty and grace had been useless as Visenya better ought to keep in mind.

Slowly she approached her window. The day had passed so swiftly despite so much having occured. Yet still the last beams of sun cast their light on the city below. It was still comfortable and warm so that she did not even bother to call a servant to incite a fire for by the time the sun would have settled down completely for the day.

Suddenly she heard fast steps approaching her chambers. She wondered who it might be that he walked in such an hasty pace pace and for which reason as her door was thrown open. The strengths with which it was thrown caused the door to collide heavily with the wall. Alarmed she made a step nearer to her bed. Then she could see who it was who had stormed into her room. It was Aegon and his face was warped into a mask of cold fury. Face pale and eyes red as if he had cried just moment before. But the reason for it she could not see. Had he been attacked?, she thought worried.

Behind him, through the wide open door, she could see the two guards which had been guarding her door and Ser Boros Blount, the member of the King's Guard who had obviously the shift to guard his king momentarily. While the two guards wore an expression of utter confusion, Ser Blount expression was almost motionless. The indifference he would always display, repeatedly made her quite uncomfortable in his presence. But certainly he would have looked worried if Aegon was in danger hence she wondered what was going on.

“You!”, Aegon suddenly screamed and pointed at her with his finger. His loud voice made her wince. “How dare you! Did you thought I would not see what you have planned?”

She did not know what he meant but whatever it had to be, there had to be a mistake. She had nothing planned. “Aegon,...I...I do not know what you are talking about.”, she addressed him.

At first she thought he had not understood her since his face froze into a motionless mask but then his expression turned even darker. Making a step into her direction, he screamed once again. “You bloody liar! Shut up, shut up! I will not listen to your lies. Do you understand me. I will not.”

Still not able to grasp the meaning of all of this, she tried to interrupt him “Aegon, please, tell me what...” but he did not let her.

“I said you should shut up! Did you thought it would be so simple? That I would simply let you? Did you thought I would be as stupid as my father had been?” At the last words his face warped into a pained expression and she was even sure to detect tears in his eyes.

Shocked because of what Aegon was uttering she could do nothing more than stare at him.

“Have you not already done enough? Have we not already suffered enough? I have lost almost everything because of you, you...you bastard!”, he spit. Now the tears were running down his face.

_Have you not already done enough?_, she repeated his words in her head.They were almost the same one Lord Connington had used once before, on the terrible day so many years ago.

“But not with me. Do you hear me? You can not deceive me! Not me!”

_Everyone knows the character of a bastard. You cannot deceive me._

“Aegon, please...please...I never...”, she heard herself pleading but what she actually wanted to say, she did not know. _Why_?

“I will not let it happen again. Never. Never! You will not destroy my family again!” He clenched his hands into fists, so strongly that she could see the white of his bones. But when her look grew blurry she noticed her own tears streaming down her face. Almost whispering she said “But I am your family, I... I am...your sister.”

His fury doubled when he screamed “No! My sister is dead. Rhaenys is dead because of you. You are at fault! I hate you!” Each word felt as if she had been hit. The pain unbearable. Her innermost feeling like ice.

Suddenly Aegon came running at her and she almost believed him wanting to hit her. She would, no could not, stop him. But he passed by and went to her bed. There, on her table, her rose, the one he had gifted her, lay still. He took it into his hand, then threw it onto the ground.

Before she could do anything to stop him, he stepped on it. Again and again until there was no rose to be seen anymore. Shaking and sobbing she fall down to the floor. “No, no, no.”, she repeated over and over again. When she looked up to see her brother´s face, she could see no pity only fury and this incomprehensible pain, which warped his face into an ugly grimace.

Hoarse, he said “It should have been you.” and went. Visenya stayed alone on the floor, weighing back and forth, tears streaming in rivers.

The red rose was gone.


	7. A Tourney is hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duty of a King´s Guard could be no more exhausting. This is especially true for Jaime Lannister when he is not only confronted with a grieving princess but an unexpected family reunion as well. It could get no worse, now, or can it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long time I needed to update but at least my exams and the certification are done. For now I will hence have a little bit more time to writte. I hope it will be a comfort that this chapter is the longest I have ever written so far with almost 20 thousand words, I believe? Unfortunately I had to divide the chapter again so that the surprising PoV will appear first in the next chapter but again the chapter would have grown to long otherwise and I thought that you would prefer it if I divide the chapter and you have something to read, now, instead of waiting for a huge chapter in the future. As always I hope you will like it and, please, if there are aspects you think illogical or do not understand, write in the comments and I will try to explain and/or correct it. :)

Jaime Lannister

The music, provide by various bards, was echoing loudly through the throne room. Along it one could listen to the countless voices of the king´s guests, their chatter and laughter mixed in with the singers´ voices so that Jaime could hardly make out the words, which were sung. Though he believed to have heard verses from _Jenny´s song._ Usually it would have made some of the ladies cry but besides of the loud noises which made it almost impossible to grace the song with its deserved attention, he guessed they were too much invested in other matters, this evening.

It was the third day of the ongoing festivities in honour of the king´s tenth nameday, as well as a means to celebrate the final day of the joust, which had been won by Ser Arthur. Jaime himself had been forced to resign when Ser Boros Blount, the newest addition to the King's Guard had thrown him out of the saddle. He had been taken by surprise then, not expecting his brother´s talent with the lance. To be honest, he did not consider him much talented at all. When looking at Blount he always would be reminded of an ox, an animal he would rarely connect with intelligence. Were it not for his talent with the sword, which – Jaime had to admit – was quite formidable, he would have wondered why he had been chosen for the King´s Guard at all.

Nevertheless he did not mind him his victory - Jaime had lost his eagerness for winning such competitions years ago - and besides Ser Arthur had won in the end anyway. Since Arthur was said to be the most formidable warrior in the whole known world, Jaime had no reason to be ashamed by it, either, in case there still should have been any last thoughts in this regard. But no, Jaime was content with the outcome as it was, and moreover thought that Arthur had deserved it.

Something different was causing him trouble, instead. Visenya. Since a week she had been distant and silent, even more so than usual. Yet this would be the wrong way to describe her for she had been distant and still at other times. Now she would be downright crushed, looking as if something deep down in her had broken.

From where he stood, he made his eyes search for her. Still sitting on her chair, was she seated to the left of the king. The whole evening he had not seen her leaving her place once. The same was true for the evenings before. He guessed if it had not been against protocol she would not have been present at all. But since protocol demanded her presence, she had to endure, no matter how much she might wish to be somewhere else. Not that he could not understand her – Jaime himself had never considered him a great friend of such festivities – but in case of his princess, there might be something more behind all of this.

Even at day, during the various performances of entertainment, her facial expression would not change from the distant and motionless one she would wear. The only emotion seen on her face would be a heart breaking sadness whenever her gaze would fall on her brother.

“Ser Jaime?” Taken by surprise due to the sudden voice so near at his ear, he could not suppress a startled flinch.

“Yes?”, he asked back, slightly irritated, and turned to the unknown speaker. He was met with the sight of one of the castle guards. “What is it?”

Making an unnecessary bow the guardsman answered “Forgive me, M´lord. I merely wanted to inform you that my men haven´t seen anything suspicious. Everything seems to be fine, M´lord.”

Although Jaime had changed shift with Blount a few hours ago, and had the time to enjoy himself with the rest of the other guests, that did not mean he could let his guard down. He still had to be attentive of his surroundings and to take care that no harm would befall the king or those related to him. In order to avoid anything even an attack, Jaime had taken the task upon himself to roam along the walls of the throne room and to question the guards for any unexpected or suspiciously looking appearances. So far he was glad to reflect that naught of trouble haf occured aside from a dispute between some drunkards which had almost caused a greater fight to break out. The corresponding knights would now reside in the cells for a night, by which the whole affair had already been dealt with.

“Well, this is good. When will be the next rotation?”

“In about an hour, I guess, M´lord.”, the man answered him dully. “You guess? Better would it be, you would not but otherwise you and your men have done your job well.”

Again the man bowed “Yes, of course, M´lord...and thank you, M´lord. With your allowance I will return to my post then.” After bowing one last time, he vanished into the crowd again. Abandoned by his distraction, his thoughts returned immediately to Visenya.

Her posture had still not changed. And as far as he could see, her gaze was still fixated on her lap, dead to the events unfolding around her. He cursed himself for not being able to find out what the reason for her drastic change of mood was. He had his suspicions but nothing tangible. Just one thing, he was sure about. About a week ago something had happened between Visenya and her brother. He did not know how many people knew about this so far but according to the rumours going on in the Red Keep, he guessed that at least the servants knew about said occasion. Probably one or the other lord or lady knew as well, being entertained by every kind of scandal happening.

Unfortunately this had not helped him in the slightest to find out about the specific events. And by the way would only involve the little princess in another scandal. About Aegon, he did not worry. Even in such a young age, his charisma had drawn the nobility on his side.

The problem of this whole affair was that none of these people who did know, wanted to talk about it, being forced to keep quiet or simply not interested in helping him. And those who did want to speak with him, did not know much more than himself. As it seemed, less than a handful of people even had witnessed the dispute – or whatever it was – between Visenya and Aegon so that most of the known information was possible only the source of gossip.

According to that gossip, however, the king and some of his young companions had organised a small tournament of their own which had been won by the king. Following the rumours he had then offered the flower, being used to crown the queen of love and beauty, to everyone´s surprise his own sister instead of the supposed Lady Magaery.

When Jaime had first get hold of this information, he had just been glad that Aegon and Visenya were still too young as that their action could be regarded as something...well...quite tagaryen-like. After all, only a few years ago the realm had been led by a king married to his own sister so that the memory of the Tagaryen tradition to marry brother and sister was still quite vivid in the minds of the people. Nonetheless, such a direction might not be seen as fortunate as it once had been and already there were plans of marrying Aegon and Visenya with lords and ladies from houses like the Tyrells.  
He could imagine that any affection between brother and sister that was more than on a friendly level would not be taken well by the Tyrells.

They might praise themselves as humble and loyal as possible but Jaime was well aware of their ambitions and their little games going on in order to secure their way to Aegon and henceforth the Iron Throne. If he did not know his own father so well, and in extent his whole family, he might even have guessed that the Tyrells were as cunning and ruthless in their ways of gaining their goal as the Lannisters.

But of course – thanks to being a Lannister himself – he knew that there was momentarily no other family which would go to such lengths as his own. Even Lady Olenna could not keep up with Tywin Lannister, though he guessed this was not due to a lack of effort. After all, there was a reason she was called the _Queen of Thorns,_ as Tyrion had reminded him once and what his brother said, was usually correct.

However, now thanks to the gap which had only increased since last week between the king and his sister, he assumed there was no need of worry any longer about any dangerous feelings the king might develop for Visenya. Aegon might not look as miserable or even angry as his younger sister – probably the three years he had ahead to Visenya had given him the time to adjust better to the court, their young king knew better than to allow them a glimpse of his true feelings – but since Jaime passed quite a lot of time in his king´s presence he was able to see hints of Aegon´s hurt as well. Whenever his gaze would so less as grace his sister for a second, his expression made it evidently that his feelings for her had only darkened.

Though, when his options of getting to know what had actually happened between those two had decreased, he had finally found the courage to ask the princess herself about what had happened. It had been the second time he had to ask since the first time he had tried, she had been hardly aware of him even being present.

It had been one or two hours after the incident had taken place and Jaime had just returned from a meeting with his family, who at this time had only arrived shortly before in the capital. His father, still ever demanding, had demanded his presence. Some kind of weird family reunion, despite Lord Tywin´s last words to his son, he would not need a family anymore when he wished so much as to remain a member of the King´s Guard.

He had wanted to surprise his little princess with offering her a ridding outside the city for the next day. He knew, she loved ridding and might need a little distance from the court for he was quite aware of Visenya´s difficulties in becoming an accepted member of the court or a friend with one of her ladies-in-waiting. And to be honest, he as well had needed distance. Seeing Cersei and his father had been quite exhausting and as cool as he had excepted it to be. It had been a good reminder of how well his father could hold a grudge.

But as he had neared her chambers he had noticed from the beginning, even before entering that something had been wrong. Yet at the way to her chambers he had heard the one or the other whispering that something had transpired but when he had seen the two guards standing watch before her doors, it had only gotten more obvious. The way they did not stand calm but were hushing at each other excitedly...well. It had deepened his suspicion of something grave having taken place.

Before even questioning the guards, various thoughts of her being ill or hurt had invaded his mind. Since he knew that she had never been ill before, Jaime had drawn the conclusion of her being wounded by a fall or something similar. He had burst into her room, only to see her sitting on the ground and weighting herself back and forth. The noises she had made, had been the those of a wounded animal so that he at first had thought she had actually been hurt. Well, hurt she had been but not in any physical way. Approaching her had revealed her sobbing figure to him which had caused him to kneel at her side immediately and question her what had happened.

She had not recognized him nor anything around her but when he had examined her for any wound and found none he had demanded for one of the guards to call a Maester. Her state had truly been worrisome. Still not recognizing him, he had fetched her up – at her age he thought she was rather small and so thin that she almost weighted nothing – and had laid her into her bed.

While questioning the remaining guard, her status had not changed at all and he had been quite relieved when the second guard had returned with Maester Tylos, the princess personal Maester. He was still glad that it had not been Pycelle. Somehow he disliked the old man, though without having any specific reasoning. But whenever he would look at him a feeling of... mistrust would creep up on him although Pycell looked the prime example of a grandfatherly Maester, with his woolly white beard and the laugh lines around his eyes. He just could no find any explanation but since listening to his instincts had helped him in the past he would not stop listening to them now, and he therefore would continue to regard the Maester with narrowed eyes.

Entering the princess´chambers, Maester Tylos had approached his charge immediately, maintaining his professional demeanour. And although the Maester seemed always quite the stern and strict man most of the time, he had shown a great deal of worry and care when he had been greeted with the sight of the completely broken-down princess. At first it had taken Jaime by surprise, not expecting such a sign of affection by a man of his demeanour. In the aftermath though he guessed Maester Tylos had been – in time – charmed by the princess lovely nature as he himself had been.

Because of the distance most of the court would keep to Visenya there were less than a handful of people who had ever gotten to experience it and most would probably be surprised to learn that Aegon was not the only one of the remaining Tagaryens who could charm his way into the hearts of the people. Her silent and often pensive character couplet with her shyness made her often seem boring and gave her the character of a brooding and distrustful child, just another factor which caused the people around her to feel dislike or disinterest for her. With it she actually shared the same characteristics her paternal grandmother, the late Queen Rhaella had shown. Silent and pensive as well, had she nonetheless charmed the whole court with her lovely smile and her encouraging attitude. The same was true for Rhaegar.

No, Rhaegar had never gained the love of his people through any loud and pompous demeanour, not by smiling and sheering with them or placing himself into the centre of everyone´s attention. His way had been another one. The silver prince had been a silent character, one who kept to himself. His true friends had been rare and his words even more so. Actually Jaime did not believe that there had ever been one who had really understood the prince, maybe not even Ser Arthur or Lady Lyanna. He had possessed the rare ability to be at everyone´s focus not because of his title, his wealth or even his beauty. No. It had been his person itself that had drawn the people to him, which had caused them to feel loyalty and devotion to him.

His whole character had stood in total contrast to Robert Baratheon. The least Jaime had still in mind about the former Lord of Storm´s End was the memory of a tall and muscular man with an insatiable greed for attention, fight and an even larger one for women, which had caused Jaime even then to wonder why he would enter a fight to win back his betrothed when he did not seem to care much about the choice of his bedmate. In general Baratheon had had the demeanour of a warrior but not the one of a leader altbeit he had held the ability to draw the people to his cause, shown by how many had decided to follow him. Hence it was true that Baratheon had been able to convince people of himself, to charm them to his way but long-term, Jaime did not think that he would have been able to hold them together like Rhaegar would have done.

People like Baratheon were like the light which draw the moth. They would attract their surroundings by the brightness of its shine, like the gold that tempted the thief but in the end it was only an outer appearance and nothing real, naught that mattered. In contrast people like Rhaegar were like the heat of the fire. You could not see it but you could feel it and therefore it was real and offered hope for those who allowed to comfort themselves by the warmness of a fire in a cold night.

And Visenya possessed the same inner fire, the same way of attracting people, or at least was on her way to develop accordingly. But by virtue of her lonely upbringing and her shyness she had hence grown into, there were few people who took notice of that. Maester Tylos, though, had spend quite the time with the little princess and, as Jaime guessed, had thus been able to get aware of this part of her nature as well.

If her environment would not just allow itself to be manipulated by people like Connington, Jaime could imagine how many others there would be who would equally be charmed by her lovely nature. Besides, Visenya was smart, smarter than any child he had met before, except for Tyrion. He could not imagine that this had escaped the Maester´s notice, either, or that he did not value such a trait in one of his charges.

Though, no matter whether the Maester held feelings for his charge or not, he at least had remained professional and had examined her accordingly. Not being able to find any wound or sign of an illness which could have caused her to behave the way she did, had he nonetheless attested her to be into a catatonic state of mind which he had tried to alleviate by giving her a mix of sweet milk and milk of the poppy afterwards. Not even during the examination had she reacted in some way and so he had been glad when she had fallen asleep only minutes after taking the medicine.

After taking care of her being deeply asleep he had returned to questioning her guards but both had proven to be as useless as they looked like and hence had not been able to tell him much, only mentioning that the king and the princess had been involved in some kind of dispute and that he was better to ask Boros Blount who had accompanied Aegon when he had confronted his sister.

And asking Blount he had done but it had ended as fruitless as the second attempt to demand answers from the princess. Her, not wanting to speak even a word about it and Blount refusing to _reveal any of the king´s secrets._ And here he was now, none the wiser and exhausted and annoyed by the still unsolved affair. Worse, not even his attempts to comfort her in any way had worked out.  
Her catatonic state had settled down but otherwise she...

Suddenly someone was grabbing him by his upper arm and drew him amid the crowd of dancing people. At first he thought some drunkard had unintentionally mistaken him for his partner but when he looked up to see who had grabbed him by his arm, he was looking straight into the face of his sister. Too shocked and perplexed at the moment to escape Cersei´s strong grip, he allowed himself to be dragged farther into the crowd. When coming to a halt, she laid one arms around his hip while the other took his hand in her own and together they fell in line with the other dancers.  
He was just glad that he was such a good dancer so that he did not make a fool of himself by interrupting any of the other pairs with his and Cersei´s sudden appearance.

“Cersei, what are you doing?”, he asked slightly exasperated by her unpredicted behaviour and tried to free his hand from her still iron grip. Instead of letting go of his hand though she just draw him closer to her chest and offered him a lazy smile.

“You certainly do not want to embarrass me, brother, by abandoning me on the dancing floor, do you?”

“I would never dare.”, he replied drily. Then “What do you want Cersei?”

She drew one of her elegant eyebrows. “What I want? Naught a thing. Merely sharing a conversation with my brother, who obviously refuses to speak with me.” By the end of her sentence her voice turned sour. Playfully though she continued. “Have I become such a burden to you?”

Before he gave his retort, he led her into an elegant rotation. With it he got aware of how beautiful his sister was looking this evening. She was clad into a red and golden dress, her sleeves long and flowing as was her skirt. In contrast her top was tightly laced and caused her breast to protrude in a way that he was hardly able to take his eyes from. Also her hair was styled into an careful elaborated knot only to fall open afterwards and grace her beautiful pale shoulders.

The light of the ballroom made her eyes and hair shine even brighter and for a brief instant he wanted nothing more than to bend forward and cover her wonderful red lips with his own. Then he was suddenly reminded of their last meeting and how that had turned out, the things she had said, also about the princess.

“What would there be to speak about?”, he asked her instead. Again, upset. “I assumed there was nothing left to discuss with me? And as might remind you, we have spoken only yesterday.”

Cersei, taking notice of his annoyance, in turn displayed her annoyance as well when her voice turned sour again. “Silly platitudes. You know, this is not want I want. If I wanted those I just had to include myself into the conversations of these stupid cocks and their silly hens.” Her gaze swept upon the gathered crowd, her eyes holding an expression of disgust. “In fact I probably would be more entertained by listening to actual ones instead of all these idiots.”

Jaime followed her gaze with his eyes. His gaze fixed on a pair of people in the far right corner of the throne room. They wore a sigil he did not know, probably one of the minor houses but nonetheless they looked content and happy. A man, he guessed, he was the head of the house, laid his arm around his wife and pressed a kiss onto her cheek, a gesture which was returned by a loving smile.

“I do not see anything to complain about. They are happy and content, what could be there more to wish for?”

Cersei met him with an incredulous expression, though the disgust was still visible. “They are disgusting. Living their lives as if everything was alright. Their days simple and without any ounce of strife for something better. Like animals, content with what they have. I guess they even are too stupid to recognize the senselessness of their existence.”

Well, if this was not plain statement. Quite refreshing if Jaime thought about it for his sister rarely said what she actually meant. Nevertheless... ”Not everyone intents to plot his whole life for something as insignificant as power, dear sister. As far-fetched as this may sound to you, at times the people are simply more interested in their families or that their children will have a fortunate future.” He made sure to glance her deep into the eyes while stating this, making sure she understood. Praying for once that she would not regard his words with mocking eyes.

At his words though his sister all but snorted “As if you would want what is best for the family, Jaime. You have demonstrated all too well how you think about us. Besides, we are Lannisters. We are made for more than the lives of animals. We _deserve_ more than the lives of animals.” Her eyes send him an intense gaze.

This time it was him who draw her closer to him. He did not want everyone around them to listen to their little dispute, and a dispute he feared it would turn into. The same as last time.  
“I care about my family. Deeply or I had not...”. He hesitated. “I just...think there are different ways of gaining what is best for ones family or that one...we could be satisfied with what we already have.”

Cersei did not respond. Next to them a young couple was dancing, laughing. Only when they had passed Cersei dared to respond. “Then what you think is wrong. If you are playing the game of thrones there is only one way. Otherwise you will end like poor Robert Baratheon. Dead and a fool. And we will _not_ be the fools. Father knows that and therefore tries everything to gain the best for our family. It is the only way.”

_It is the only way_., he thought bitterly. Loud, he laughed. “You want to tell me that father only wants what is best for the family? This would be new since I know he hardly cares about us if not for the reputation of us.” He wanted to add the topic of Tyrion as well but thought that they momentarily did not need any more fuel for the fire.

“Our well-being and our reputation are the same, you idiot.”, she hissed into his ear. “If the people do not fear us, then they do not respect us and hence we will be weak. I know you are not the smartest, sometimes, but even you will know what happens to a lion who shows weakness.” For a second she paused to lend her words more insistence. “It will be ripped into pieces by its enemies, to be eaten and forgotten and that we can not let happen.”

Irritated he felt compelled to contemplate that Cersei indeed became more like father with every day. He, as well, was fond of comparing their family to their sigil. As if they were actual lions who had to fight with claws and teeth to protect themselves and their territory. Well, maybe it helped them with their plots and intrigues to imagine themselves as animals. A lion did not feel remorse when killing an innocent, either. Somewhere deep inside his father had to have conscience as well after all, although it was hard to believe.

“May I remind you how often you was wrought with father whenever he tried to discuss a marriage proposal for you? I do not remember that you were quite fond of his decisions at that time. I even might remember that you called him as _slaver_ two or three times who wanted nothing more but to take profit out of you.” He smirked.

Cersei´s cheeks turned softly pink. A wonderful colour on her pale, flawless skin. It was one of the reason why he liked to make Cersei angry.  
“That was different as you know well. Besides I was still quite young at those times and...I did not...understand what one has to sacrifice in order to protect your family. Now, I know better and furthermore Devan is acceptable. He treats me...accordingly and is not as stupid as I feared. Of course, he is not even as half as smart as I am but...well, this also makes it easier to manipulate him.”

At her words, Jaime could not prevent to feel a deep rush of jealousy nor the intense wish to visit his cousin and strangle him for sleeping with his sister. How did he dare to...to do what every husband was entitled to. He felt slightly silly. At least, he was _acceptable_, whatever this might mean for his sister.

Through gritted teeth – he just could not bring his jaw to relax – he said “Well, if he is acceptable, you have nothing to complain about. I am happy for you.”

Seeing his obvious discomfort, his sister offered him a little smile. Sweet and innocent. “Of course, I would rather be with you but since...”

He interrupted her by whirling her around far stronger than he had intended to. His heart made an irregular jump while his inside roared with a feeling of headless joy and confidence. _I would rather be with you._ Cersei still wanted him. The thought made fire spread through his bones. Equally though was he once more reminded of their last meeting and her rejection of him and his joy was muted by uncertainty. Expectantly Cersei was looking up into his face.

“I do not believe you.”, he said. And were it not the same words his sister had used then as well when he had told her, he loved her? Astonishment was seen on Cersei´s features. Before she could reply though, he continued. “Our last encounter had made it quite clear that you are pleased of – how did you phrase it? - _being rid of me_. Tell me, dear sister, if I had told you this, would you believe me when I tried to reassure you of my love for you?” His voice was hard on the edge of sarcasm.

Cersei had never been one to make fun of her and that obviously had not changed since he had last seen her as she looked quite offended with a frown set between her eyes. “Do not blame me for that, Jaime. Had you not played fool like you did, I would not have been forced to speak with you like this. But of course you had to aggravate everything, again, albeit I wanting naught save to help you.”, she said fast and angrily.

Jaime could still recall rather well the conversation and he was sure that nothing of what had been said, had been a means to help him. “Help me?!”, he laughed. “In which way? By revealing yours and father´s wonderful plans to me or by threatening me to not place myself in your way!?”  
Again, he let out a loud laugher. “How would I possibly benefit from that?”

Cersei´s grip around his hip tightened and he felt her long nails cut into his skin. “Do not be an idiot on purpose, Jaime! Every benefit our family gains is a benefit for you as well. You may have distanced you from us – silly as it may be – but that nonetheless does not change that your are a Lannister. I only wanted to help you to keep that in mind.”

“I am a member of the King´s Guard. A fact for which you are responsible, if you have not forgotten. My duty is to the king first as yours should be – as the king´s subject – as well.”

Her eyes glistened mockingly. “A king who is still a little child and will need every support he can get when he grows older. A support we can provide him. What is wrong if our family gains as well by helping the crown? You know this as best as I do, that when we are part of the crown, nobody will ever dare again to be disloyal or even think as much as to act in rebellion. It could be a win-win-deal for everyone.”

“Well, but since I guess all of this was father´s idea I cannot avoid to wonder why our dear father did not ask me himself whether I provide him my help.”

“He could hardly ask you while residing in Casterly Rock and you here in King´s Landing.”, Cersei responded.

“Oh, and his inability to speak with me has nothing to do with the fact that last time we have seen each other he made me understand that if I abandoned my family I would not need them, either? That it has nothing to do with the grudge he still holds against me?”

His sister rolled her eyes, exaggerated. “Father does not hold any grudge against you. He even tried to come to terms with your...choice of life.”, she said hesitantly. “But still you refuse to listen to him. If he is angry with you, he has any right to be since you even refused to come and greed us when we arrived in King´s Landing or whenever he did invite you to see us. Father does not like it to be treated disrespectfully.”

“Father does not like many things. And if you see him next time, you can tell him that I do not like it to be ordered around. Since I am a Lannister, he should know that.”, he said mockingly. “Besides – as you might have noticed – I have other duties to attend to. A tourney is not the best place to be distracted when I have to protect the king.”

“You are childish, Jaime! Trying to hide behind your supposed duty. In truth you are only afraid of father and what he might think about you. Have you not only lost your manners but your balls as well!?” Her voice was full of spite and he even detected a hint of disgust. Her nails only pierced deeper into his hip.

Jaime felt his face growing hot, equally because of embarrassment as well as anger. He had enough of this conversation. Again he tried to break free of Cersei´s grip but still he was not able to without making a scene. He was almost tempted to do it nonetheless.  
“Well, if you think so, I see no reason why you would still have need of me.”, he said coldly. “If you may excuse me, Mylady.”

Dimly he took notice that in the meantime his and Cersei´s dispute had caught the attention of several dancers around them. He could could not care less at the moment.

“Oh, I see. You are running again, trying to avoid any confrontation with your problems. As if that would make them go away. Maybe it would have been better if I had been born the man, then you could wear the dress and cover behind your silly excuses.”

This time it was him who tightened his grip around her wrist. But despite of the pain it had to cause her, she did not show any sign of it. No, she would more likely scratch out her own eyes before confessing her pain. “It is enough, Cersei!”, he hissed, showing his whole fury which her words had caused him. But still the smile on his sister´s lips did not vanish. Her eyes shone likely even more with a cunning amusement.

“Or else? Have I hurt your pride? I wonder how since nothing I said is not true.” Her voice was sweet as honey and Jaime wished nothing more but to shake her until she came back to her senses.  
“I warn you one last time, Cersei. It is enough.” But she did not seem to have listened to him.

“Or maybe your loyalties have changed? Have you simply replaced us with another? Maybe this little princess of yours?” Startled at her words and her drastic change of topic, he came to an halt. He did not know if it was the accusation itself or the tone in which it had been expressed which surprised him more. Rolling her eyes again, his sister dragged him out of the crowd of dancers which they had interrupted with their sudden stop. Grabbing him by his elbow, she led him into a secluded corner of the Throne Room.

“What are you meaning by this?”, he asked, astonishment audible in his voice. It even prevented him from farther hissing at his sister.

“Well, it is quite simple. You have replaced us with this little child. Although I cannot understand the reason for it.” This time he was absolutely sure to have heard hurt in her voice. But why? Would she actually be jealous of Visenya?

“I know what you meant by this. I just do not know how you would come to such an conclusion. It is ridiculous. Besides who had told you this, or have you come up with this idea all by yourself?” The last part of the sentence he added bitterly.

Cersei snorted which caused her nose to twitch in quite the cute way. “Everyone knows this. But I would not need anyone to tell me about this, I only have to look at you and how you regard the girl with hawk´s eyes.”

Once again, Jaime felt his face grow hot although he did not know why. “And what of it? As I said, I am a member of the King´s Guard. It is my duty to protect the king´s relatives as well.”

“But not the way you seem to protect her. I have watched you, brother, and not even Aegon you have paid so much attention. Besides it does not seem as if the king is much interested in his sister´s safety anyway if the rumours I...”

He interrupted her, already knowing which rumour she had to have heard. “Which makes it only a better reason to protect her.”, he said hardly. Cersei paid him a pensive expression and he continued.  
“She is a sweet child. Smart and kind. And she does not deserve to be treated the way the court is treating her. She needs me and...”

“More than I?”, she hissed at him.

“Cersei, you are a grown woman and not a little child and as you said, Devan can take care of you while Visenya has almost no one. She is lonely and hurt and...”

“And what of Joffrey and Myrcella? Do they not need you? Your are their uncle! Are they meant to grow up without you? It is their first time that they ever got to meet you and you refuse to spend time with them because of a girl you are not even related to! All these years I have told them about their great uncle. The golden lion of Casterly Rock. And now that they have seen you, they are hurt because they think you are not even interested in them.” She sounded truly angry now.

Suddenly he felt guilty. He had completely forgotten about his niece and nephew. Although he had not wanted to. They were sweet children and had no guilt in the dispute he had with their mother.  
“I...I am...sorry.”, he stuttered. “It has never been my intention to hurt them. You know that, do you?”

Cersei´s face was flushed. “Do I? Since your behaviour has shone the complete opposite. For years I have the feeling you want to distance from us and I do not know why!”

He draw his eyebrow. Incredulously. “You know exactly why. But I do not have the time nor am I in the mood to discuss this with you again. The last time had clarified enough how you think about it.”

“And what now? I will not return home with another dispute between us, Jaime.”

“That will be your problem then, not mine, Cersei. I think we are done here.” He was not content with how this conversation had turned out, particularly regarding his niece and nephew but he knew Cersei would not change and he actually had more important things to do but to fight with his sister. He still had to guard Visenya. He turned around and wanted to leave when Cersei held him tight.

“No, Jaime...,please. Do...do not go. I am...sorry. I...”, his sister stuttered and he could see how much these words cost her. Cersei was not one for apologies.  
He then regarded her more attentive and saw her fingers playing nervously with her ring, she wore on her finger. Something had to bother her deeply.

“Jaime. You have to understand. I am...”, she took a deep breath. “I am...frightened and I need your help. If...” She turned her head so that he could not see her face anymo longer but her voice was pleading. When she looked back, he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. A sudden feeling of uneasiness spread in his stomach. His sister never cried or at least he had not seen her cry since childhood. Tears were a sign of weakness and if there was one thing Cersei detested it was weakness, especially her own. Hence, what had caused his sister to give in to this weakness and that so suddenly?

“Please, Jaime. I need your help. I cannot allow that...”, she stopped unable to speak farther. Jaime just stood there and did not know what to do in such a strange situation. When had been the last time he had to comfort his sister? He guessed when their mother had died but was not sure about it.

Cersei only looked at him with her pleading eyes which – due to the uncommon look in them – seemed even more earnest and intense. Slowly he approached her and when she did not rejected him, laid an arm around her. Immediately she returned the hug and hid her head on his chest.

“What is truly going on, Cersei?”, he asked her. Equally demanding as well as in the intent to comfort her. When she did not reply immediately, he repeated the question. “Cersei, what has happened?”

This time she seemed to have understood him. She made a step away from him and saw him in the eyes, her composure half-way regained, though in her eyes there were still remains of unshed tears. Cersei cleared her throat and said “The events of the last years, Jaime, they have made us look weak. For decades our father has been the mightiest man in the whole Seven Kingdoms but after the death of Rhaegar, the Lannisters have started losing their face.”

Erratically she run her hand through her hair. “When Aerys spurned our house the first time by rejecting my hand for Rhaegar, everyone had known he only did so because he was afraid of us, afraid of father. We were powerful, even more so than Aerys himself. After all, there was a reason he had Illin Payn´s tongue removed for saying that father was the true king. No one dared to even suggest we were weak.  
But when Rhaegar died, we were rejected a second time.” Bitter she continued “As if we were some kind of figure of fun.”

Although Jaime could understand her anger she harboured towards those past events, he did not know what his sister aimed at and he wanted to tell her exactly this but before he could interrupt, Cersei continued, again.

“Do you not understand, Jaime? The realm had seen that they can spite us, even humiliate us! And there is no one as vulnerable as one who allows another to humiliate oneself. And father”, she said, now with more fury in her voice,” he just allowed it all to happen. Worse he allowed Connington”, here her voice took an almost dangerous edge, full of spite for the man she thought at fault,” - this stupid up-starter – to humiliate us father by removing him from the small council and send him home as if here were a naughty child.”

Eratically she walked up and down. And here he had thought that their father could made no mistakes. Obviously he could. Though he did not dare nor was he cruel enough to voice such thoughts when his sister was so visible affected by it.

“Do you not see it? I...we cannot allow this humiliation to continue or we might loose the respect the realm is owning us for everything our family has done for them. I am just so afraid of what could happen otherwise. What may happen to our family? To Joffrey and Myrcella?”At the mention of her children, her tears returned.

Jaime approached her again and took her hand into his which caused his sister to stop her pacing.  
“Cersei, there is no need to be afraid. You know father better than to believe he would simply allow the realm to make fun of him. Only a fool would dare to challenge Tywin Lannister.”

Irritated Cersei shook her head “For years you have lived in King´s Landing, Jaime, but you still do not see how the game is played. There are enough examples in history in which the fool has won and King´s Landing is full of them.” Near the end of her sentences. He was able to hear a hint of her earlier disgust, again. “Strengths is everything. As well as the risk to do everything to reach one´s aims in order to protect your legacy and your family.”

She regarded his face carefully, then draw his hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on it. “This has been everything I ever wanted Jaime, to be safe and protected, to have my children safe and protected. And to be with you.”, she ended softly and lovingly while sending him another intense gaze which hit him deep in his very being.

“I...”, he started but did not know how to finish the sentence or what he even wanted to say. How was it that he always felt like a stupid fool when being in his sister´s presence? Like a child which knew nothing of the world?

“And I hurts me to know that we cannot be together as it should be because we are each other´s half, or at least not now but Jaime, please, if you ever loved me, you have to help me. Help us.”, Cersei pleaded and how sweet and desperate did her voice sound.

He gulped. “Despite of everything...that...that has happened between...us...I still love you and I doubt...that will ever change.” And how much did it cost him to confess such a thing? How many nights had he laid in bed, not being able to sleep because of the contradicting feelings which fought in his chest? When had his life turned so difficult?, he wondered.

“And I want to help you if...But you know I can not simply abandon my duty. _I am_ a member of the King´s Guard, Cersei. It is nothing I can ever change. And it is true, I have a duty to my princess because... She is a lonely child but smart and kind and she does not deserve what is happening to her and if I have neglected my responsibilities to our family, especially your children, then I am sorry.” He said it slowly this time to make sure she took his words for real. She should not think that he had abandoned his family completely. If he had...well, he probably would not had to worry about any of this anymore.

For a few seconds, Cersei´s face was unreadable and he did not know in the slightest, what might be going on in her mind but then she nodded as to herself and said. “I can understand this, Jaime, if this is something that is so important to you. I just have missed you so much and I do not want to loose you, again. As I said, you are my twin, my other half and I cannot live without you.” And the smile she gifted him with, it was sweeter than the Maid´s could ever be.

“And I am sorry how everything between us got out of control. I...there were just a few things that surprised me, for example how much you seem to care about Visenya. You know I never liked it to be surprised.” She lowered her gaze as if deep in thoughts. Then “Please, be honest with me. How much does this girl...the princess mean to you?”

Jamie did not know but suddenly he felt uncomfortable but he thought he owned his sister an answer. That he in some way had replaced his family with her had had to hurt her. “There are not many people who really care for her and in the last years I have spent quite some time with her. I have grown...fond of her and...Visenya...she means a lot to me.”, he finished. Hesitantly again as if he did not know how to express his feelings for the child he had sworn to protect. And actually – although he was aware that the princess held a special place in his...heart? – he had never before confessed this truth aloud for anyone to hear. Maybe this also explained the discomfort he felt at confessing this to Cersei.

“I understand. I really do and I think my own motherhood had helped me with it.” Her tone was still strangely neutral and still did she refuse to look at him. “To think that Joff or my little Myrcella had to grow up without their family, their mother...it is horrible to even think about it. It is very noble of you to play the father-substitute for her but I guess since you and I know how it does feel to grow up motherless, it is no surprise.” Finally she looked up again and said, smiling softly “You always have been too good for this world, I am afraid.”

In his mind he saw the images of little Rhaenys and the Princess Elia passing, their bodies laying still and bloodied on the ground. Heard the cries of helpless Rhaella whenever she would have been assaulted by her mad husband. And not even Visenya he could help. He snorted and said bitterly “I am no good man.”

“Yes, you are, Jaime! Or how could you have been able to forgive me that I have treated you so horrible? Could you forgive me of what I had been forced to be part of? If our places would be reversed I do not know if I had the strength to do what you have done for me now.”

At this, he wanted to refuse her, tell her that she was wrong. He loved her but he had not forgiven her, yet. But seeing her now soft eyes and listening to the gratefulness in her voice, he did not find the courage to deny her this. After all, was this not what he had wished for as well? Even when he had been hardly more than a hostage in King´s Landing during the near end of Aerys´ reign and had detested his duty as his lapdog, he had had Cersei and the reminder of their love for each other.

In the last years, though, this had been missing and because of this his duty had felt almost even more exhausting than in the times of Aerys. Only thanks to the fact that there was no Cersei, that his second half had been missing. It had opened his eyes for how important his sister truly was and he just was not able to accept that he would be forced to live without her. Therefore he said nothing.

“I have missed you so much.”, she said then when he did not responded and hugged him for the second time.

“I have missed you, too.” He returned her hug, feeling strangely relieved and pensive at the same time but still he could not name any reason for it. There was just a hint of discomfort in his stomach that refused to go away but he thought he did not have the time for such a thing now.

“Maybe I could even help you. As a kind of peace offer.” Her sudden change of topic surprised him, particularly because he did not know what she meant. “Helping me?”, he asked confused.

Rolling her eyes, she said “The princess. Or have you already forgotten? You said that she was...is lonely? Since I have children of my own, maybe I could help you with her.”

“I do not know if you could do much about it. You do not know her and moreover the matter is all quite complicated.”  
Actually he did not want to talk about Visenya. Not because he did not trust Cersei but more due to the fact that he did not want to invade the princess´ privacy. There were already enough people who knew about the rumours and there was no need to help spreading them faster.

“I already know some information about her. It is not difficult to overhear how the realm is thinking about her. Poor child. To be given the fault for something her whore of a mother did.” For a second he tensed when he heard Cersei calling Visenya´s mother such but he knew there was no reason to interrupt Cersei only to start a new dispute.

“It saddens me gravely to imagine how her life had been in the Red Keep so far. And the rumours I have mentioned earlier...they even say that Aegon´s and hers relationship had taken quite the dark turn. Something about a rose...though there are of course no specifics about it.”

His discomfort intensified. Though he was also curious what the rumours involved about the flower. Of course Aegon had offered his sister a flower when he had crowned her his queen of love and beauty but the flower could hardly be the reason for any dispute between the siblings. After all, Aegon had offered her the rose out of his free will and not because Visenya had animated or even seduced him to. As he had considered before any thoughts towards that direction would be ridiculous if you regarded the young age Visenya and her brother were off.

“I have heard something similar as well but nothing more than simple rumours and everyone involved refuses to speak about it. Not even Visenya herself wants to reveal anything though I cannot blame her. I think it may have something to do with Connington. He never liked her and is arrogant enough to think there will be no consequences if he mistreats her.” Though deep down he knew there would be actually no consequences for him as long as Aegon himself did not voice any objections and besides he might be king but a child nonetheless.

“Maybe I could speak with her? Or does she have any friends whom she could confess her griefs and sorrows?”, Cersei asked farther.

“I do not think that her relationship with her ladies-in-waiting is very close. Most of them are more like silly girls and have not much in common with her. Besides it seems they are more interested in flattering Lady Magaery. She is her first ladies-in-waiting and a lively little girl. I do not think, either, that you should speak with her. She is much too reserved to entrust herself to one, she does not know, Cersei. The best would it be to leave her alone.”

For a short moment he thought he had seen her eyes flash with an annoyed light but then she smiled understandingly at him and said “I understand but, please, if I can help tell me and I will do it. There is a lot about women you do not know, yet, things only a woman could understand, Jaime. I could offer a new way of perspective, you could say.”

Suddenly he had an image in his head about a lioness eating a little lamp and he shuddered. He was still not sure if this was such a good idea but just to be sure he nodded. “I will think about it, Cersei. I promise.”

“Good. And if you do, write me as often as you can. Also about everything else. I would not want to miss an exchange of letters with you, again.” Here, he could again hear a small hint of disapproval from her.

“Well, if you had wanted to hear from me you only had had to ask Tyrion. We never stopped exchanging letters.”

“I wanted to but the little dwarf did not allow me. Not even father had been able to convince him to allow him to look into his letters...as if he did not want that we know about you.”  
Whenever she would speak about Tyrion her expression would turn sour and this time was no difference.

“I hardly believe it. He might not have the most tender feelings for you or father but he still loves me. He would not try to cause disconcert between us.” More he did not add, not wanting to cause another dispute about Tyrion, also because he knew that he was a subject that he would never bring his sister to think about differently. She seemed to think the same since she only raised her eyebrow and remained silent otherwise.

“I think your husband is looking for you.”, he said when he saw his cousin approaching them. Cersei turned around and made an annoyed sight. “Well. I think we have to part now but, Jaime, think about what I have said...also about father. We need you. I need you.” One last kiss was pressed to his cheek but almost gracing the corner of his lips that he got the meaning of it. It had just been too long since he had kissed Cersei the last time, the kind of kiss a man would give his wife.

With a feeling of nostalgia he saw her leaving but before he could linger too long in the corner, he decided to move and approach the place where he knew his family had been seated for the duration of the tournament. Whether he was still angry with his father or not, Cersei was right and he had to make peace with it. And if she was able to confess to a mistake done why would he not be able to bring himself to do something he despised as much as she had to?

He made past several guests and at the corner of his eyes he could make out Cersei and her husband dancing. Now being able to observe his sister from the side line, he got one more time aware of the gracefulness of her every move and how beautiful she shone in the light of the candles and fires lit in the whole throne room. Suddenly he wished he had taken his time to enjoy their earlier dance together instead of having kept his distance from her. Well, maybe if the evening went without any complications there still would be the chance of sharing another dance with Cersei.

Once more he had to remind himself of directing his attention elsewhere. When facing Tywin Lannister it was always better to be on his full attention, otherwise he might fear to inflict another dispute with his father only minutes after the first one had been halfway put aside. His mind set on how to begin any conversation with his father, without subordinating himself, he swiftly made his way through the crowd.

Albeit he had every intention to make peace with his family, which of course included his father, he did not want to allow him to dominate him again, the way his father had always done before. Tywin Lannister had to understand that if he wanted to have his favourite son back, he had to make amends as well. One of those would be to accept him and the choices in life he had done and to understand that his children – at least this child – would no longer be a simple pawn in his game. If he would choose otherwise...well...he would see when it came to it. Jaime had never been one for planing far ahead.

He was only a few meters afar from where his family was placed when he saw that the table was almost completely deserted. The only one still seated on his place was Tyrion. Although he did not want to confess it, he was tacitly relieved to not be confronted with the sight of his father. He might be set on not giving in to any of his father´s demands but that did not change, either, that he was not looking forward to this conversation. Tywin Lannister was an intimidating man, after all, even for his children.. Maybe even especially for his children.

When he came to an halt, Tyrion looked up to greet him with a lacy smile.  
“Well, if my eyes do not deceive me, my dear brother has decided to grace me with his presence. Which honour I have to thank for this, I wonder?”

Jaime returned his smile with a tired one of his own. “Your eyes do not deceive you, Tyrion. Have you seen father?”

Tyrion made a pensive face. “Have I seen father? A man with greying hair and green eyes which are set on telling you, you are only a cockroach to be crushed under his feet?” He made a short pause. “No I do not believe, I have.”

His brother´s sarcasm caused Jaime to roll his eyes though he also had to fight against the smirk which wanted to spread on his lips. He could not claim that his brother´s description was without fault.

“Why do you want to know? I, for myself, am quite content to be free of the great, great lion of Casterly Rock for a moment.”, Tyrion continued with a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I am searching for him. We have something to discuss. It is important.”

“And what may it be which is so important that my dear brother has to speak about it during such a wonderful feast?” Tyrion´s eyes fixed on his face. Now more focused than before.

He frowned. Somehow he did not want to speak about it with his brother. He had the odd feeling that Tyrion would not be very pleased about his intent to make peace with their father, no matter what he had told Cersei before. “ It is nothing.”, he said instead.

“Well, if it is nothing, what do you think about taking a seat and having a conversation with your favourite little brother, hm?”

Rolling his eyes, again, but not having any objections about sitting down, he took the chair left to his brother and settled in. After hours of roaming the throne room, it felt good to relax his tired limbs.

“Since I have you now all for myself, how are you, Jaime? And, please, no silly platitudes. I am not interested in those. You do not have to shy away from me, you know?”.

Crossing his legs, he considered what to say. Not because he did not want reveal his true feeling to his brother. No, he could trust Tyrion with almost everything. It was more due to the fact that he did not know, either. Or at least knew no way how to express those feelings. Therefore he tried with the easiest ones first. “I am tired, I guess. But as a member of the King´s Guard, this is nothing knew.”

“Yes, this seems plausible. What else?”, Tyrion coaxed further.

“You know, the usual. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He responded when nothing else came to his mind.

“I see”, said Tyrion cryptically and took a sip of his wine. Then, after putting the wine glass down he asked out of the sudden “Have you spoken with Cersei?” His voice sounded quite casual but Jaime could see at the glimmer in his eyes that the question was not meant as such.

Annoyed Jaime took an own great swig of wine. How was it that everything his family wanted to talk about was only a means to gather information from him or an intent to manipulate him? It was more of an exception but the rule that he could have a conversation which did not include such strategies.

“Yes”, he said. “What of it?”

Tyrion took another sip of wine. “I have seen you dancing. You look quite charming together if I may say such.”

Jaime felt an upcoming headache. “Out with it, Tyrion. I already had a conversation full of underlined meanings. I do not have the time or the mood to listen to another one.”

Tyrion did not respond immediately but resumed to study his face attentively as if he wanted to estimate what might go on in his mind. Then he sighted and answered “Hm, if you say so, then what have you and Cersei talked about? Exchanges of endless brotherly and sisterly love? Or wonderful stories of your lives as mother and wife or a famous knight?” His brother giggled as if he had just told a very funny joke.

As dry as possible, Jaime responded “Of course. We did nothing else but to tell each other of the fantastic turns our lives has taken and how much better we are now.”

Again Tyrion giggled “Yes, you looked exactly such.” He cleared his throat. “No, jokes aside, dear brother. Sometimes it looked like Cersei would rip your arm out any minute hence I only wondered what you might have talked about, particularly since your first deed after having met Cersei is looking out for father. I thought it a little bit... odd.”

Jaime averted his gaze, then said “I do not know why this should concern you, Tyrion.” Under the table he balled his hands into fists, suddenly nervous.

Tyrion continued almost as if he had said nothing “You are my big brother, after all, Jaime. But if you do not want to tell me then at least allow me to offer you my advice. Do not believe everything our dear sister is telling you.”

Startled he turned his head back to regard his brother “And why should I not?”

Tyrion´s features were expressionless when he met his gaze with his own “Because I know our sister – probably more than you do – and I know that the last years have not lessened her ability to manipulate. Well, that and her bitterness.”

He felt his expression grow darker but Tyrion did not seem concerned by the dark look, Jaime was sending his way. Instead he simply took another sip of wine before he took notice that his glass was already empty. “That is our sister, you are talking about, Tyrion.”, he said and took care to make his disapproval audible in his voice.

Tyrion just refilled his empty goblet “So what? I am very well aware of this sad fact though this does not change, either, that our sister unfortunately goes by the name of Cersei Lannister.”

His headache increased. Usually he thought that his two siblings were as different as is was possible for two people who were actually related to each other but in moments like these, he thought that they could not have been more identical if they tried. It was almost the same situation as before during his talk with Cersei, now though it was Tyrion who tried to speak ill against Cersei and not the other way round.

Irritated though, he thought that he had not to wonder. After all, this way it had always been. He knew how much his siblings disliked each other. He considered that his irritation was more thanks to the fact that now was not the best of moments for such behaviour.

“And I had thought the atmosphere of the feast was so wonderful. If so, why do you need to ruin it with your bad mood, Tyrion?”, Jaime answered as impassive as possible.

Tyrion eyes widened as if in surprise. “Why? I and bad mood? No, I have my wine and later I will possibly go searching for a nice little whore to warm my bed. My mood could be no better.”

Jaime felt his cheeks grow warm. He did not like the thought of his brother whoring. After such a long time he had not seen him, he still had the image in mind of an excited little boy of hardly eleven years. Almost seven years had passed since then which of course had given his brother the time to grow up but nonetheless the thought of Tyrion going to bed with a whore was disconcerting, although he knew that Tyrion would soon turn eighteen years old.

What he liked even less, though, was that such a behaviour had – as he had gotten to know – going on in increasing measure since almost three years. Servants he had questioned had told him of the sudden change three years ago which had been caused by an event no one exactly knew about. But the same as Visenya when he had tried to question his brother about it the first day of his family's arrival in King´s Landing, he had revealed nothing.

“Tyrion, do you really want to be remembered by history as a drunk and whoring dwarf?”, he asked half honestly, half meant as a joke.

“A drunk and whoring dwarf? Well, no. Of course not. To be remembered as a dwarf only will be so much better!”, Tyrion answered, conviction held high in his tone.

Jaime who had just wanted to take another sip of wine, had to spit his mouthfull due to the laughter which erupted him.

“You laugh!? It is the first time I have seen you laugh since our arrival. I was already King´s Landing had driven it out of you.”

Jaime who had calmed down again, merely responded dryly “That is one of the things about this city. But...everything is fine.”

Tyrion raised his brow. “Jaime,”, he said in a measured tone, “you may be well trained with the sword but lying...it is not one of your strengths. What is truly going on? Already the whole evening I see you pacing nervously through the throne room. Please, if I was honest you can return this favour, hm?”

Jaime lowered his gaze and considered this for a moment. He still was not comfortable with the thought of sharing secrets about the princess but he had already confined some to Cersei, why could he not tell Tyrion about it? Besides. If there was one who could understand the situation, Visenya was caught in or him for that matter, it would be Tyrion.

“You...may be right about it. There is something that is...bothering me.” He glanced up again and saw that Tyrion was watching him with an curious expression, his head slightly inclined. “But if I tell you, you have to promise not to speak about it with anyone else.”

“Everything you say.”, Tyrion said solemly.

“It is about the princess. Visenya.” He did not know how to continue. Why had he always so much difficulties to express himself?

“Well, what is about her? Except for the fact that she looks quite miserable and that there are rumours about a dispute between her and her kingly brother?”, Tyrion interrupted when he had spoken no farther.

“You have heard about it, too?”, he asked surprised but worried as well. If so many people knew about the rumours it was possible that by know the whole court had heard about it, which gave it just another reason to make fun of the princess. Jaime sighted.

“Yes, but I think this is only thanks to my ever constant boredom which motivates me to go searching for the more interesting things. And as much as you have looked towards the princess, it was also quite obvious that something was the matter with her.”

“Good...I think. I do not want her to become centre of another amount of rumours. This is the least she needs now.”, he said and run his hand nervously through his hair.

“And what is now the exact matter with her? What happened between her and Aegon?”

“If I only knew but more than the rumours I do not know, either. I just know that it had to be something drastic since the princess refused to speak even a word about it and she is...I do not know. It is almost as if she is ill. When I found her she was catatonic and cried and nothing I do is able to comfort her and...I just do not know how to help her.”, he finished lamely.

“Family can sometimes cut the deepest wounds, Jaime. If Aegon had said something to her...maybe he had finally become aware of the many accusations cast at the princess? It would not be unlikely that he is seeing her at fault for the deaths of his family as well, now that he has become older?”

“I truly do not know. Besides he had...said something like this already in the past. Connington had made sure about it to convince him of his opinion that Lyanna and her daughter are at fault for what happened during the rebellion. And it made her sad before but not in the scale as now. It has to do something with the tourney, Aegon and some of his companions have held. I heard that Aegon had crowned her the queen in the end although everyone thought he would choose Magaery but why then should this be a reason for her to be sad?” Why had all of it to be so confusing?

Also Tyrion had to consider for a moment, then he said “The tourney of Harrenhall is famous throughout the realm. Maybe he had heard about that his father had crowned Lady Lyanna and was afraid of making the same mistakes as his father was supposed to have done? Otherwise I do not know. I do not know our king enough to make efficient assumptions.”

“Yes, maybe. But even if I knew what had happened I still do not know how to help her. She just does not deserved to be so miserable all the time. She already had enough of this.”

Again, Tyrion was looking at him as if surprised. “I did not know that she means so much to you, especially since I never considered, you would be one for children.”

“Cersei said almost the same. But as it is, she does mean a lot to me. The way she has to grow up...isolated from her family and hated for something she had no part in...She needed someone to look out for her and I think I also owe it her grandmother, the Queen Rhaella. She would not have wanted for her granddaughter to grow up this way...unprotected as she was.” Almost smirking, he added “She sometimes even reminds me of you.”

At his words Tyrion looked pensive but then said cheerfully “Oh, I dare hope she does not. She is much prettier than I am.” He giggled. “But I think I see your point.” He grew serious again. “But if you do not mind brother, if you have spoken about her with Cersei, please, be careful. I do not think that her intentions are of the innocent kind.”

And with it, Jaime grew annoyed, again. What was it with his siblings that they just could not stop at antagonizing each other?  
“Explain”, he responded strict, his eyes hard.

“As much as you may love her, Jaime, you cannot deny that our sister is not the easiest of people. Besides of her surely enchanting qualities there are also some which are not as much charming but more of the...unkind character. As such our dear sister has the quite remarkable ability to hold a grudge and some might even say...wish for revenge for people she sees at fault for any actual or imagined slight towards her. Regarding this...I do not think it would be the best of ideas to bring Cersei in contact with the daughter of a woman she thinks of as have stolen her place.”

“Why would she hold any ill will against Lyanna and her daughter as such? Lyanna is long since dead.”

Tyrion sighted “I am sorry, Jaime, but sometimes I think you are deliberately slow. Lyanna has managed to turn Rhaegar around her finger and not only this but made him marry her and birthed him a child. And Lyanna may be dead but if some of the other rumours are true, our dead king was actually in love with her and Lyanna will be remembered as queen. If there is one thing our sister loves, it is power and due to some of her more volatile reactions towards the mention of Lyanna´s name...I guess she was even a little bit in love with Rhaegar. Or at least the false image she had created in her mind since I do not think that they would have fit together.”

Jaime felt heat spreading through his body. What Tyrion said was bullshit. Cersei was not...She did not love....Loud he said” She did not love Rhaegar.” Tyrion smirked and shrugged and Jaime had to curse his stupid, stupid jealousy. Even if...what would it matter? Rhaegar was dead and he could not say that they would have fit, either.

“Well, I only said I guess, not that she did...but at least my assumption that she loves power is right. She considers herself a female version of our father – unfortunately or fortunately, however you see it, she is not – but that does not change that she will possible have no good will towards the little princess, a child which could have been her own, were it not for her mother.”

Jaime shook his head, not wanting to believe what Tyrion said “It was Aerys who refused a marriage between his son and our sister. Cersei knows that.”

“Maybe, but jealousy can bring someone to do or think the weirdest stuff and Cersei is not the most rational of thinkers. Believe me, if she comes any near the princess, I would fear for her safety.” His brother underlined his statement by giving him one of his most serious gazes, from which Jaime sometimes thought they could just look through him.

“Tyrion, you are telling nonsense. Cersei would never...” In the middle of the sentence, he stopped, not able to continue. Images from their last meeting swept up in his head. How careless and almost disgusted she had spoken about Lyanna and Visenya. Or how she refused when he had asked her what she thought would happen with Visenya in order to gain Rhaergar´s attention.

He gulped and then let his gaze roam through the room. Still he saw his sister dancing with her husband, full of grace and beauty. He thought that no one would ever consider his beautiful sister to be able to do such a deed. But he already knew better, did he not? After all, their whole dispute had rotated about this fact. Nonetheless he could not condemn his sister so fast, not after making peace with her only minutes ago.

Tyrion was still watching him, when he turned his head back to him. Tense he sat there and waited for him to continue. “I will...consider what you have said.”

“You better do if you do not want history to repeat itself.” Jaime just nodded and took his glass in hand to empty it in one great gulp. “But I see, you do not want to talk about it anymo longer, though if you want further advice from me in matters of your litle protégé, you can always come to me and I will help. You know that, I hope.” Jaime nodded again.

“Well, then change of topic. Let us speak about...this wonderful city. I must say, the architecture is quite...sparse. I had thought Rhaegar had made plans for the city to be rebuilt? If I am not wrong even according to plans, made during the days of Jaehaerys the first.”

“You are not wrong. It just seems that Connington has forgotten about them, though not about his plans to reinforce the city walls.”, Jaime said darkly, glad to get rid of some of his many complains about the Lord Regent.

“In the last years Connington seems to have forgotten quite the lot. And I thought as Lord Regent, it is his duty to preserve the realm, not to lead it to ruins.”, Tyrion wondered loudly.

“It is. Though sadly Connington´s abilities to rule are to be desired. And if he does not change his course of action, I fear there will be no realm left for Aegon to reign.”  
Tyrion laughted “When you have become such a pessimist, dear brother? However, I have to agree with you that Connington may be one of the worst Regents this realm has ever seen. It is almost comically...and I wonder if he is blind or just a fool?”

Jaime smirked bitterly “Both I think if he believes that one such pompous tournament will solve all of the smallfolks complains.”

“Really?”, asked his brother surprised “I had guessed as much since the crown seems to have spared no costs. He had even invited this famous Essosi group of actors if I am not wrong.”

“Well, the crown has money enough to spare. It is the lack food which arrives at the city and the constant raids which cause so many problems. Particularly in the last two years its numbers have increased drastically and still Connington refuses to do much about except for sending a few patrols to watch the nearest environment around King´s Landing. I think he considers it as punishment for the Riverlands if he lets them deal with the raids alone. They are affected by them the most.”

“Well, at least Connington is good in holding a grudge though I fear it will not bring him any good. The Riverlands are almost as essential for the granaries as the Reach and thanks to the restrictions bestowed on them they never had the possibility to recover from the rebellion.”, Tyrion said pensive and with the smallest of hint of worry in his voice. “And with the still remaining insect infestation in the Reach and the civil war in Volantis and some other parts of the Free Cities...Connington better has to change his attitude soon if he still wants to master this ill-fated situation.”

With a dark gaze, Jaime rested his eyes on Connington who sat to the right of Aegon at the high table. He was easy to detect with his fiery red hair and broad figure. Although Jaime believed that Connington would never dare to usurp his young protégé, it was palpable how much the Lord Regent prided himself for his position at court and the power he held in his hands, his breast stuck out proudly, his head held high and with an superior look plastered on his face. His years of power had made him arrogant and blind for any mistakes, a process Jaime had been able to watch many times whenever a man such as Connington had gained too much power in a too short timespan. His companions of the council were none the better.

“I hardly think he will. He is much too arrogant to listen anymore and as I have come to know him, it will only get worse.”

Tyrion cast him an ugly smile “Maybe he will as soon as the people start to demand for his head, though I think it may be already too late then.” Tyrion paused for a moment, again pensiveness written on his face. “I sometimes wonder, you know, how it even came to it that Rhaegar had appointed Connington for the position of the Lord Regent?”

Jaime shrugged, none the wiser “I sometimes wondered as well but maybe he did because he was his friend or because he knew that Connington would take good care of Aegon. At least in this aspect he is not a total failure.”

Tyrion shook his head “It sounds plausible but only if you did not know the late king. Granted I did not know him, either, but the rumours and the few things I knew about him are telling me that it would have been out of character for Rhargar to do something like this. He might not have been perfect but the king was not an idiot and only an idiot could have missed the fact that Connington is not made to be the ruler of anything greater than the small castle he calls his own. Besides he had to notice his obvious dislike for the late Lady Lyanna and her little daughter and therefore would not have wanted his youngest child to be in the care of a man, he knows, has no pleasant feeling towards her – if Rhargar truly loved Visenya as his child.”

“He did”, Jaime said seriously.

“Then...his choice will remain a mystery.”, Tyrion said matter of fact. “The only luck we have is that the realm is still too tattered to evolve into another rebellion and that the small folk has high hopes that Aegon will become a second Jaehaerys. They may hate Connington but our young king is quite favoured throughout the whole realm. And the fact that many great houses hope for a fortunate marriage with the king or at least one of the princesses or Prince Viserys is another factor which hinders the realm from breaking into another crisis. Then we cannot forget that Aegon has the whole might of Dorne behind him and with Princess Visenya as the royal hostage...the Starks will not dare to even think about another rebellion, even if Stark´s wife is the old fish´s own daughter.”

When Tyrion called Visenya hostage, he felt a stitch to his heart and was already about to deny his brother´s statement. But then he reconsidered his thoughts as had to remember every time his princess had been mistreated by the court or Connington. The way they never treated her as a princess but rather an unwelcome guest. It was a sad truth but the truth no less that his brother was right and the princess was a hostage to her own family.

“But still”, Tyrion contined “Connington better does not rely on this. The Tyrells are only loyal to themselves and the same is true for our family, Jaime. Besides you know how far father would go to achieve his aims. Rumours of...nine feet tall man who are butchering whole villages can become quite dangerous if your power is not truly your own.” At the last sentence, his brother´s gaze intensified again and his voice sounded more urgent than before, almost as if he wanted to...tell him something? But Jaime did not see what he might want to tell him. Maybe it was due to the wine he had drunk or because his head was already too filled with different information but before he could try farther to detect any possible secret meaning, there was a loud cling.

Alarmed, he and Tyrion turned towards the direction the noise had come from. Three tables afar from where the king sat, Lord Velaryon was seated. Now he had risen, a spoon in his hand with which he had clung against his wine glass to draw the attention from the people around. Repeating the noise, the room began to quieten and the king´s guests turned their attentions towards the seahorse lord.

“I know, today had been a day already full of praises and congratulations, not only thanks to Ser Arthur´s spectacular victory at the joust. Nonetheless “, he turned his gaze to Aegon, “I do not want to miss the change to congratulate our young king in person to his tenth nameday.” He made a short pause before Aegon nodded approvingly.

“Our king may still be young but despite his age I am convinced that he will lead Westeros back to peace and prosperity for all of us. When I look at him, I see the hope of a better future, devoid of any inner conflicts, when all of us will be united as brothers and sisters and with each day passing, he proves himself to be a true son of Rhaegar Tagaryen, a man whose wish was to see us united before anything else, a man I proudly called my king.” Due to strong emphasis on the word unity, Jaime could not avoid thinking that it was also meant as slight towards Connington whose dealing with the former rebels had done anything but bringing unity to the realm. Looking at Tyrion´s slightly amused face, he guessed he thought so as well.

“Therefore, without wanting to delay this matter farther, may I say – To Aegon, the sixth of his name, king of the seven kingdoms! Long may he reign!”  
With it he held up his wine glass and took a deep swig and everyone gathered in the room followed his example “King Aegon Tagaryen! Long may he reign!”

After Jaime had risen his glass as well, he expected the lord to take his seat again but as it seemed he was not finished, yet. A foreboding feeling spread in his stomach.

“I also want to take my change to praise our young princess. As rumours go, Princess Visenya makes her title and family every honour possible and I am convinced she will only continue to grow into a true Tagaryen princess of old.” Lord Velaryon stopped his speech and send Visenya an honest smile of affection. Visenya though looked hardly glad about the received praise but as if she was deeply afraid of being mocked.

He could understand her reaction, though Jaime knew that at least this time the praise was meant honestly, did he know that Lord Velaryon held a deep affection particularly for the little princess. The reason for it, was a mistery for him but he had heard that the then young Lord Velaryon and the late Queen Rhaella had been friends once which maybe was reason enough for him to treat every grandchild of hears with such a sign of affection. By the way the Velaryons had always been loyal beyond normal to the whole Tagaryen family and with it saw it as their duty to show each member its deserved respect.

It was just in this case that Jaime wished he had avoided such a speech, especially since his statement was not one that was shared by many of the nobility and therefore seemed rather awkward. He did not believe, either, that Connington would be pleased by his words nor the circumstances he had chosen to make them public. Lord Velaryon continued nonetheless.

“I have additionally heard of your talent with the harp, my princess, and hence would ask of you to perform a song for us to hear it for myself. I am sure your brother would be pleased by your performance as well.” He wondered if Lord Velaryon had heard about the rumours between Aegon and his sister at all, or had he just decided that he did not care or maybe even saw it as a possibility to settle the dispute between them?

Visenya then stood up, her figure tense but when she saw that everyone´s attention was set on her, she straightened her posture and tried to look as regal as possible. Also her expression has settled into an almost expressionless one so that no one could notice her discomfort any longer.

“I am deeply flattered by your high praise of my person, Mylord, though I am afraid I am hardly as proficient as that I could perform a song by its deserved beauty.”, Visenya said in a quiet but strong voice.

Lord Velaryon though offered her just another smile and said in return “I insist, princess, since I know by the words of dear Lady Elaerys that your voice and harp play are rivalled by none in the whole city.”

Jaime thought he knew why Lord Velaryon insisted so much on her performance. He probably though that by showing the nobility some of Visenya´s talents, her reputation among them would improve, would give her the possibility to show everyone that she was a true princess indeed. He could not know that it would only get her into trouble with Connington, who probably would punish her for drawing so much attention to herself. And actually when he cast a look towards the Lord Regent, he saw that his face had already started to take the colour of a deep red. He wondered what he might do. If he would allow the Lord of Driftmark to continue his play.

Visenya´s hand shook only slightly when she asked “Then I will grand you your wish, Mylord. Which” she stuttered almost inaudible before she caught herself, “...which song do you wish to hear then?”

“Anything you would like to play will suffice, Princess Visenya. Just choose one, you would like to present. I am certain your voice will do it honour.”, Lord Velaryon responded, still smiling comfortingly.

Her eyes cased downwards on her feet, his princess got up and made her way around the tables to approach a place in the middle of the room. There she waited until one of the servants brought her a high harp and fast and silent, she tuned the instrument to her liking. In the meantime an almost tense but also expectant atmosphere had spread through the great hall and Jaime saw the guests coming nearer in order to not miss even a second of the events which took place in front of their very eyes.

Then without any introduction the princess began to play and the first sweet notes of a song everyone in this room had to know echoed through the hall.

“High in the halls of the kings who are gone  
Jenny would dance with her ghost  
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found  
And the ones who had loved her the most  
The ones who`d been gone for so very long  
She could not remember their names  
They spun her around on the damp old stones  
Spun away all her sorrow and pain  
And she never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
They danced through the day and into the night  
Through the snow that swept through the hall  
From winter to summer then winter again  
Til the walls did crumple and fall  
And she never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
And she never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave  
High in the halls of the kings who are gone  
Jenny would dance with her ghosts  
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found  
And the ones who had loved her the most”

When the sung came to an end, her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Nonetheless it left behind a power he had not thought possible. The whole hall had fallen into a bone deep silence which was more than the simple quiet of an attentive audience. It was a silence so deep that it remained Jaime of the first hours of a new day, shortly after midnight or the vibrating silence after a heavy storm.

Then after almost a minute had passed, Jaime could hear the first reactions coming particularly from the female guests. Heavy sights and silent sobs echoed through the room and hasty whisper spread from one guest to the other. He could not understand the exact content but was sure to hear surprise and amazement in their voices. Jaime could only agree with them.

Several times, yet, he had listened to the lessons of the princess but at no time had he heard her performing like this. Every note had been played with absolutely correctness and had been accompanied with the deepest of feelings. Her voice sweet and soft and with a scale of pitches he had not considered possible for such a young person.

The song – in and on itself classified as a melancholy ballad – had only been intensified by the princess´voice and the slowness of her harp play, which had spoken from her own loneliness and grief. Every word she had sung seemed to have reverberated from her own innermost and hence had transformed her performance into a reflection of her own feelings, visible and audible for everyone present. There had been only one man, Jaime knew who had been able to thrill his audience such. Rhaegar Tagaryen. It was the final evidence that Visenya was his true child at last.

Another minute had passed and he saw Visenya still standing alone in the middle of the hall. Her expression had returned to anxiousness and confusion and her posture was such as if she expected to be laugh at any minute, her eyes dark and widened.

Suddenly there was cheering all around her and the people clapped their hands in their enthusiasm. Those who has sat down even got up to get a better view on her, though Visenya did not look any happier about it than before.

Also Lord Velaryon clapped his hand enthusiastically and on his face was an expression which spoke of amazement and pride. When the cheer finally died down he said, voice filled with reverence “I think, Princess Visenya, you have shown us all that you are a real heir of Rhaegar Tagaryen. Truly, such a voice I have not heard since the death of your royal father. You do him honour. To you, my princess!”, and lifted his glass once again. To Jaime´s astonishment he actually saw the one or the other do the same.

After Visenya nodded gracefully, her face unreadable again, she returned to her seat.

“Connington will not like that.”, said Tyrion suddenly and Jaime turned his gaze back to his brother. He still sat on his chair, having remained seated due to the pain such hasty movement would cause his legs and the fact that Tyrion was more than anything a man who thought with his wit and not his emotions. Nonetheless Jaime detected also on his face signs of astonishment and awe. His slightly widened eyes as well as the serious trait around his mouth, revealed him as much.

“Neither that Velaryon had shown his affection so openly nor the fact that the princess had the possibility to prove her belonging to house Tagaryen, is it not a contradiction to his statement she was no true daughter of his beloved Rhaegar.”

Worried, Jaime responded “I do not think he will like it, either.” And indeed, when his gaze caught the Lord Regent it got obvious how much Connington was displeased by the whole spectacle. His face colour, just yet deeply red, had switched to almost pasty green-white, always a sign for absolute fury. His own gaze was directed alternately at the seahorse lord and the princess and spoke of horrible murder. Jaime´s worry what this would have for consequences for the princess tenfold.

Then his gaze switched to Aegon and he took notice that the young king was not pleased by the spectacle, either. He might not show it as visible as his foster father but the frown between his eyes and his sudden strict line around his mouth, told Jaime all he needed to know. If Lord Velaryon´s intent had really been to bring the siblings back together, he could not have done a greater mistake.

“Better keep a close eye to your Visenya, Jaime. I have the feeling she will need it.”, Tyrion said gravely.

“I will.”, he answered and got up. If anything was about to happen, he wanted to be as close as possible to Visenya. “Until we see us next, brother.” Tyrion nodded sombrely and waved him away in a reassuring manner.

Despite the still looming melancholia caused by the song, the feast soon returned to his usual course and all around him the people started to continue dancing and chatter with each other. Occasionally he got along the one or the other comment about Visenya´s performance and those who were more political minded even spoke about the discrepancy which had been shown between Lord Connington and Lord Velaryon and which had gotten more obvious due to Velaryon´s course of action.

“Maybe the princess is more dragon than we thought. Though I still think she looks nothing like her famous ancestors.”, Jaime heard someone saying while he passed.

The voice from the answering person made him stop “Oh, I think appearance is not everything. The princess might have more of a dragon than we would expect. Just remember the first three children from Princess Rhaenyra or Prince Baelor. None of them possessed the Tagaryen looks but none would have doubted their Tagaryen heritage, either.” It was the spider who had spoken. Lord Varys. His sweetish voice was unmistakable.

“Ah, Ser Jaime! Please, join us if you would like. Tycho Nestoris and I were just speaking about the princess´ wonderful performance. Who had thought that such a young child could be quite so talented, yet?” Lord Varys sounded cheerfully.

“I must confess to have never heard such a sweet voice before.”, the man with whom Varys had spoken, reported. “Greetings, Mylord. As Lord Varys already mentioned, my name is Tycho Nestoris, I am emissary of the Iron Bank of Bravos.”

Well, that at least explained his strange appearance. Standing quite tall, was he clad in a bright purple rope with a high stiff collar. Adding to his high was his long and rope thin beard which reached from his chin to his waist. But what could one expect from an Essosi? They were all kind of strange.

“Greetings.”, Jaime answered back politely. Through his father he knew to better than to make the Iron Bank his enemy and if even his father was cautious when dealing with such lot, he better heeded his advice. He just wished Lord Varys and his new acquaintance would not take much of his time. Nonetheless he could not miss the possibility to ask a question of his own “I wonder though what a man of the Iron Bank would do in Westeros?” As far as he knew, the realm had no trouble with money hence which reason should there be for a visit of the famous bank?

“No worry, dear knight. It is nothing about business, just an exchange of pleasantries between two parties of common interests. After all, a friendship with such a powerful fraction such as the western kingdom is rather important for such an influential bank like the Iron Bank.” The man laughed at Jaime´s relieved expression.

Suddenly Varys interrupted their talk. He himself was clad in an rather striking fashion. A lavender robe similar to a coat with patterns of various strange looking animals. Additionally he wore soft looking slippers in a similar style which were bent upwards at the tips of his toes.

“But what are you thinking about the princess´ musical talent? As her guard I am sure you were already aware of it. Oh, she has such a sweet voice. I would be glad if from now one we would be able to hear it more often. Would you not agree? But, oh, I already see that it probably will not be possible for the poor child is so shy and withdrawn.” He sighted loudly.

Suspicious, he regarded Varys and wondered what the spider intended with his words as he had to know that is was not only due to her withdrawn character that the princess was not allowed to play in front of audience.

Measuredly he admitted “I was as astonished as you but I agree, the princess has indeed a wonderful voice.”

Grieving Varys shook his head “And the emotional depths by which she sung...almost as if she had expressed her own grief and loneliness.”

“Yes, I must confess I found it a little odd. A child of such youth should not know such sorrow. But I am afraid that is the fate of many children. The world can be so cruel...I have to know..so much as I have travelled...so much war as I have seen and then also the current war in Volantis – in times of peace a truly magnificent city – and even in others of the free cities...but well, what can one do against the nature of the world itself?”, Tycho Nestois intervened.

“True, true, my friend. But maybe whatever is bothering the princess will soon remedy itself.” His gaze scanned the view behind Jaime and his expression turned confused. “Oh, but where might the princess have vanished?”

At his words Jaime turned around and actually the chair where Visenya had been seated only minutes ago, was empty. Alarmed, he noticed that the same was true for the seats of Connington and Aegon.

“The evening lasted long, hence she might have gone to bed? I wish her the best of dreams then.”, Varys continued but Jaime did not even listen anymore.

With an hasty “Excuse me” he inclined his head and turned around to look out at where they might have vanished to. When he reached the high table he looked around but still did not see even a sign of them. Deciding to take the risk Jaime left the throne room in direction of Connington´s office.  
He felt his heart beating faster and increased his pace until he almost run.

He was only half a passageway away when he saw the door of Coonington´s office. It was open and through the door he heard the echo of angry and frightened voices. Surprisingly though Connington´s was not amongst them. The last steps he forced himself to take in a normal tempo to avoid showing his suspicious behaviour.

Shortly he knocked at the door frame and – without waiting for permission – entered the room. The sight which greeted him was not a reassuring one. Indeed it made his worry only deepening.

At the opposite end of the chamber, Visenya stood with her back to the wall, her whole body crouched in a posture of a frightened and caged animal. Her eyes huge and teary and on her right cheek a red print, formed like a hand. She as well as the other members of the room turned to him as he entered.

Next to the door three more people stood. Aegon, Connington and Boros Blount. Each of them presenting a different expression at the sight of him. While Blount displayed the same expressionless face as ever, Connington looked still as angry as before with an additionally hint of annoyance. Aegon though wore the expression most worrisome since his features were warped into a mask of utter disgust and fury, even more expressive than Connington´s. His face was pale as a sheet and his hands shook with anger. Only when he recognized him, his face changed back to the known young and friendly expression. But seconds later the change was already redone.

Carefully Jaime addressed the king “Your grace, what is the meaning of this?” and did another step into the room.

Aegon opened his mouth to answer but Connington was faster. “I do not think that this does concern you, Ser Jaime”, he said coldly and with narrowed eyes. “Your duty is to protect the king and not to question what he does or not.”

Jaime responded back, the same cold tone in his voice “A King´s Guard duty is also to the members of the royal family, if you have forgotten, Connington.” He did not even try to sound respectfully.

“Stop it immediately, Ser Jaime! You seem to have forgotten that in the king´s might to chose whom you protect and whom not. And you will not speak with the Lord Regent this way.” This time it was Aegon who answered and his voice was as quiet as the calm for the storm. His eyes flashed and his posture was proud and serene. Suddenly he seemed older than he had ever seen him but equally more dangerous.

Jaime forced himself to speak calmly when he answered “Forgive me, your majesty, but if you please could explain me what your are intending to do...”

“It is not on you to question the king or his orders.”, Blount intervened suddenly while his hand wandered carefully to the hilt of his sword. Jaime watched him with careful eyes.

Aegon lifted his hands “No, Ser Blount. I have no reason to hide my intention.” His voice grew darker and he turned his gaze towards Visenya who was still watching them with frightened eyes.  
“I am punishing a whore for her traitorous behaviour as every king has his right to!”

Jaime heard Visenya sob desperately when Aegon insulted her such. He felt anger rising I his chest, surprisingly though not due to Connington but because of Aegon. He had thought that it was solely due to Connington´s influence on the young king that he behaved the way he did but the reaction he showed now proved that whatever had happened between the two siblings was more than he could have considered and more personal as well. Nonetheless Jaime could not allow Aegon to hurt his sister. Whatever kind of furious madness had infested him, Visenya did not deserve what Aegon obviously planned to do.

“Your grace”, he tried again, “ what has the princess done to betray you? She is but a child...” as are you, he wanted to say but again he was interrupted.

“I am the king, Ser Jaime.”, Aegon said sombrely and with an authority he had not expected. Sadly he seemed more kingly than ever before but in a way Jaime thought did not suit him nor was it in any flattering way. “I decide who commits treason and what is considered as such. She”, he pointed at Visenya,” deserves to be punished. She is a deceiving, filthy and traitorous whore.” Each word was hissed with more disgust than the next.

Next to Aegon he saw Connington smirk. “The king is right. This girl is not some innocent maid in need of rescue. She has brought evil upon this realm and now she tries to do it again. It is only due to her position as the king´s sister that she is even allowed to continue roam free. You only have to see the way she tried just moments before to manipulate the court. Lord Velaryon is already under the spell of her disgusting manipulations and...”

“No! NO! That is not true!”, Visenya cried out, desperate and helpless, “Please, I would never...Aegon...I...,please, you are my brother...I am so sorry...I never...never wanted that anyone was hurt...Please...”. She hugged herself and tried to suppress her sobs but her tears she could not stop. But neither Connington nor Aegon showed any sign of pity. It was absolutely madness.

“Shut up, girl or you will wish you had.”, Connington threatened. Jaime had enough “You are speaking madness! How could the princess...?”

“She had killed mother and Rhaenys and father! She is at fault! For everything! I hate her!” Aegon´s serene and angry mask broke and revealed one of deepest hurt and some small hint of desperation. What to all seven hells was going on?

“She should have died! She and her slut of a mother! It is all their´s fault!”, Aegon added hoarse.

Incredulously Jaime shook his head. “And how could they have been responsible? You must not believe what Connington tells you, your grace. Every word out of his mouth are lies.” He cast Connington a look of disgust.

“How dare you! I am Lord Regent of this realm. One more word and you will regret it. What you speak is treason and not even your position as King´s Guard will help you any longer nor your father, Lannister.”, if it was even possible, Connington´s voice got even angrier.

Also Aegon was affronted by his words, though he seemed to have calmed down a bit as soon as the topic had distanced from Visenya. “I will only repeat it one more time, Ser Jaime.”, he said shakily, “You will not insult Lord Connington. Every insult to him is an insult to your king, which is equate with treason. You will not farther oppose your king or you will allow me no other option but to remove you from my King´s Guard and throw you into the Black Cells.” The king´s eyes were as hard as stone.

But despite the threat, he knew he could not do it. He just could simply stand by and watch the princess as she got hurt. He felt his stomach drop. This would it be. His end. But at least he would go down by protecting his princess. It would be honourable. Who had thought that his evening would take such an surprising turn of action? His hand made way to the hilt of his sword – not to hurt the king, there was no way he would do this but to defend the princess and himself and to try to find a save way out of the castle to bring her into safety – when he was interrupted one more time.

“No! Do not hurt him! I am at fault not him, please, do not hurt him!”, Visenya cried out of the sudden. “Please, Jaime, do not...I deserve it. No one shall be hurt anymore because of me.” She got up from the floor and looked alternately at him and Aegon. Then her gaze settled on him. “Please, Jaime. I...can...bear it. Do not worry... I can bear it...but I cannot lose...” She had to stop, before she was able to continue but he knew anyway what she had wanted to say. “Please, go.”

“I cannot. I will not let you suffer for something you have no fault in, princess.” At his words he saw Aegon´s jaw hardening.

“No! You will go, Ser Jaime.”, she commanded, her voice equally tremulous and firm. “That is an order! Now go.”

Everything in him fought against the thought of letting her behind, helpless and abandoned with those madmen. But suddenly an idea appeared in his mind, a way how he could still help her. He felt the gazes of the others on him, Blount´s bored, Connington´s smug and angry and Aegon´s expectant and strict. Gritting through his teeth he said” If you wish that I stay out of your affairs than I will leave,...your grace.” Aegon did not show any reaction towards his words, he did not even nodded to give him the permission to leave but he left nevertheless.

He cast one more look to the princess, now that he left her afraid and helpless again. Slowly Blount took a step forward and Jaime rushed out of the door which fall shut behind him. Which each step he took, he had to fight not to run back. It was not in his nature to leave a fight unsolved but for the sake of the princess he knew he had to. This was not a fight he could win, not if Aegon was taken by this madness and Connington was whispering poison in his hear. But he knew there was one who held at least the same amount of influence about Aegon as Connington. One who would never hurt little girls. The only difficulty would be to convince him into helping him. He prayed to all goods he knew to give him the needed strengths. He would need every ounce of it.


	8. Viper & Lion / Griff & Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I repeat myelf but again, I am sorry for having taken so much time. At least I hope it will make you happy to get to know that I have used the time to reread the other chapters and make some improvements and to outline some of the future plot. Additionally in chapter 5 you will find some added information. Since I thought it quite strange and illogically that the crown would take no other hostages I added that Renly and one other hostage of the four great houses of the rebellion (Baratheon, Arryn, Tully and Stark) are now hostages of the crown.

Oberyn Martell

It might be a rare occasion but even the Red Viper could enjoy himself in King´s Landing when given enough reason to. Though most of the time he had been forced to spend in this gods forsaken city had not been a pleasurable experience. Still mostly built of ruins and full of smell of shit and others excrements, he did not want to think about too much, did the city also hold the most painful of memories for him. Were it not for his nephew and the one or the other interesting...establishment, he probably never would have set another foot into the capital.

A small smile grew upon his face when he remembered some of his more recent trips to the city below. Particularly one brothel there had gained his favour, offering a great variety of young and exotic ladies...and boys. Unfortunately the name had escaped his mind yet with an offer so exquisite there would certainly be no difficulcy to recover said establishment. The owner, he remembered had gone by the name of...Belish...Baelish? An odd man, he thought, with his small green eyes and his constant smile but at least he seemed to know about his business. If he kept going, he presumably would be a very rich and influential man one day.

Lazily his gaze settled on Ellaria. Tonight, she looked even more beautiful than usually. She was clad in a bright orange coloured dress with a neckline that went down almost to her navel. Along with the golden bracelets he had gifted her to her last nameday, it highlighted her exotic appearance only more. Her heir was laid into wonderful, soft curls which graced her shoulders in an exquisitely sensual way.

Currently, she was immersed in a conversation with with Lord Yronwood, one of the emissaries from Dorne who had accompanied him on his visit to King´s Landing, when he bend forward and pressed a kiss onto her neck.

Giggling due to his sudden...assault, she grabbed behind her and run her hand through his hair. In a slightly chiding tone she said “Oberyn, Lord Yronwood and I were just talking with each other.” Her chiding tone did not hinder her though to stretch her neck even farther to allow him a better access. He just loved it when his lover was reacting in a way that was equally responsive and strict. He thought that this way both aspects of women, he respected most, were visible. On the one hand the youthful urge for mischief and experiments, on the other hand the wisdom and responsibility the mature woman would present the world. Oberyn loved every kind of women but one who united both, was simply irresistible.

“And what may be of such importance that you are in need to confer about it with Lord Yronwood, now? Certainly it can be no more important than I or that he would mind a transient interruption if this would mean you can take care of your poor lover.”, he responded while proceeding to distribute another share of soft kisses onto her neck. While he did, he cast Lord Yronwood a brief look. Instead of being affronted due to the interruption, he merely looked amused. He was no prudish and tedious Reacher or Westlander.

No, the Yronwoods were as Dornish as any who were born south of the Red Mountains and hence featured the more candid and tolerant sense of what was proper and what was not. Oberyn often mused that this made the Dornish not only more progressive but happier as well. What sense held life if you could not enjoy it, after all?

Therefore it made him only more furious whenever there were mentions of Dorne being inferior to the other regions of the Seven Kingdoms. Only because they were different and the fact that solely Dorne had managed what all other regions had failed at – to retain their independence. Only through marriage Dorne had become part of the Seven Kingdoms and beforehand had fought with every means possible to preserve their freedom.

What did it matter through which weapons you won if victory and the survival of your people were at bay? But no, the majority of the Westerosi people did not interpret it that way and hence the Dornish would forever be looked down at. Fortunately Oberyn had long since learned to live with the constant harassment and had done everything to prove what a Dornish was truly worth. The only region he had once still assessed to be understanding of them, had been the North, were they as different in their culture as Dorne was. But even that region had turned out to be a disappointment about nine years ago.

“Oh, I know that Lord Yronwood would never dare to raise an objection against a short interruption. He is just too polite and considerate for such a thing, particularly when confronted with Dorne´s most notorious prince.” She made a short pause to allow her words to sink in, then she continued, still in her chastising tone “I am more concerned about the fact that a grown man is still not able keep up his manners. Did your mother not teach you that it is rude to simple interrupt a conversation?” She turned around which hindered Oberyn to kiss her further. The expression she send him was one of strict seriousness but when he saw at her lips, he got aware of the slightly twitch around the corner of her mouth.

Taking on her game, Oberyn put on an expression between innocent youth and caught scoundrel “I have to confess my mother gave up upon the task as soon as I turned three years old. She simply thought it was already too late after she had to admit to her defeat when she tried to wean me. Therefore my continued education was such that I grew up with my every wish fulfilled hence I am not used to the idea of not getting everything I want immediately and unfortunately do not possess much of an... appropriate mannerisms.” He grinned innocently.

“Well, then I think we have to do something to remedy such unruly behaviour, do you not think? But I have to warn you, I am a strict teacher and my punishments for misbehaving students will be severe.“ While Ellaria managed to held by her serious expression, Oberyn could do naught but to grin even brighter.

“Then I will try to do my best.”, he said but the by now obvious mischievous sparkle in his eyes indicated that his statement was not necessarily directing that he would try his best to _avoid_ punishment.

Next to Ellaria, he noted Lord Yronwood trying to hide his laugh behind his hand. By now the character of Prince Doran`s younger brother was widely known – every man and woman knew about the very Dornish, will say proud, stubborn and vengeful character of Prince Oberyn – but that did not mean that another, so obvious demonstration by the famous prince, could not cause the spectators to indulge into smiles or – when speaking of the none-Dornish population – into indignation or gossip anymore. Fortunately Lord Yronwood was not the latter so that Oberyn was able to provoke the preferred reaction. After all, his countrymen should enjoy this evening as much as possible hence why not give them a reason to enjoy themselves?

“I know you will.” Ellaria dropped her feigned serious expression and cast him a mischievous smile of her own.

Oberyn gave her one last kiss and abated into a serious demeanour or at least the one, he would wear when being present at court. “Still, what had you and Lord Yronwood to discuss? Your conversation seemed quite intense.”

Ellaria´s expression lost some of its earlier shine and a worried frown appeared between her eyes. Immediately Oberyn grew worried as well and sat up more upright, now tense and attentive.

“What is the matter, darling? Are you ill or has something happened with Obella or Elia?” But already when he asked, he knew that that could not be it. Ellaria and he spoke about everything, there were no secrets between them and particularly in regards to their common daughters, his lover would never leave him unaware about any illnesses or other matters.

“No, I am not ill nor are any of our daughters, or the other Sandsnakes in this regard.”, she responded hastily and laid her hand in a reassuring gesture upon his arm. Slightly hesitantly she continued. “Lord Yronwood and I were just talking about Princess Visenya and her musical performance.” She looked at him almost apologetically.

Oberyn froze. Well, that was a topic he had not expected. Though he wondered why Ellaria seemed so worried. It was not as if he had any problem when she talked about the princess or her performance. Or at least that was it what Oberyn tried to convince himself of but after a few seconds he had to admit that he just could not.

It was not as if he hated the princess, not even as if he disliked her. According to what he had seen and heard about her, she was as sweet and lovely as anyone could wish for a little girl. She was shy, smart and polite and as curious of the world as any of his own daughters. Or at least he guessed such since the princess had always listened so eagerly to any of his stories, he told about his adventures whenever he visited Aegon.

The problem was simply that whenever he looked at her, he was again and again reminded of all his losses and the pain that went with them. Again and again he had to think about his dear Elia and that the child standing in front of him was the very embodiment of Rhaegar´s infidelity. And no matter what Arthur or anyone else would tell him, he would never believe the story that Elia had been very much aware of what was going on between Rhaegar and the wolf-girl, not to talk about that she had given her consent. No, bloody-Rhaegar was just too much of a craven to confess to any faults of him and everyone else which included Arthur were just too loyal or blinded by the false image Rhaegar had created around himself. He could not trust any word of them.

It did not help the princess, either, that she just looked like her dead mother. With long brown hair, her narrow and long shaped face and her pale complexion she would probably grow into a copy of Lyanna Stark. But that was not even the worst of it. Were it just for that, he probably could bear her presence better for it was less the wolf-girl he saw at fault for his sister´s and niece´s tragical fate but Rhaegar. After all, Lyanna Stark had been hardly more than a girl herself and had not been accustomed to the intrigues and plots of the south. She had not known better.

But Rhaegar...fucking hypocrite Rhaegar had had to know better. And because of this, Oberyn would and could never forgive him. Unfortunately for the princess was now the fact that she might look more like her mother – except for her eyes, damn Rhaegar´s eyes – but that she resembled her father in personality. Her silent and pensive demeanour, her often melancholy aura, even her soft and graceful movement...all of this reminded him of his cursed brother-in-law.

Then there was also the fact that Visenya´s presence was also a constant reminder of whose presence was missing. He knew it was an unfair and disgusting thought but he good not help it but to think that while Visenya lived her sister Rhaenys – his precious niece and Elia´s only daughter – was dead. And with each passing year this ungrateful feeling would only deepen.

Therefore he could often not bear to be too long in the presence of the princess, no matter how cruel that might be. He had tried often enough, tried to invite her the one or the other time to spend time with him and his daughters or his niece Princess Arianne. But aside from the sometimes more rejecting behaviour some of his daughters had shown her – for which he had punished them since as Dornish they had to show that they were better then the rest of the kingdom – he was almost sure to not have been able to show none of his own hostility.  
Then there was also the reaction of Aegon, he often did not seem to enjoy his sister´s company much, either. With all that in mind, it had led him for the last two years, to give up on trying to built even the slightest of relationship with Princess Visenya.

But still, he swore on every deity possible, he would never harm the girl on purpose or would simply look away whether something should happen to her. He just did not like it to spend too much time contemplating about her. Ellaria knew all of this and hence was aware of his divided feelings towards this matter and as a caring lover would not like to cause him distress. Actually it explained her short hesitance well enough.

Oberyn tried to look as relaxed as was possible when he answered Ellaria “An interesting topic. The princess is talented enough that the people might talk about her. With such a voice and talented fingers she will rival every bard in the whole kingdom.” He tried hard not to think about from whom it was she had gotten that talent.

Relieved his lover dared to brighten her smile again and the frown between her eyebrows vanished “Yes, she has such a lovely voice. And such a wide scale of pitches. I did not think that such was even possible for a young girl like her.”

“Well, if one practices well enough, there is nothing which hinders you from reaching your best and since there is not much different to do for an intelligent young girl she may have time enough to practice. I even heard that she has a famous teacher from Essos, a former slave from Lys.”

“Yes, but nonetheless I was greatly surprised by her talent. She sung with so much emotion. I had difficulties to hold back my tears.”, Ellaria said intensly and with a hint of pensiveness.

At her words, Oberyn had to smile softly. His lover could be as fiery as any dragon. There had been times in which she managed to intimidate even him when she was truly angry but on the other hand his lover possessed a very gentle side as well, one which made her cry whenever one she loved dearly was hurt or which gave her the ability to find just the right words to soften a hurt heart as she had done for him when his sister and niece had just died. This way he had met her. This aspects of her character were just another reasons he loved her so much. She was perfect.

“But it also made me worry.”, she added.

Astonished he looked at her, his head tilted to the side to underline his confusion. “Why would this make you worry? Many singers use their emotion to improve their performance.”

“That is exactly what makes me so worried. Do you not think it odd that a girl so young of age can sing with such a deep and convincing sadness? If one of our daughters, Elia or Obella, would sing this way, I would wonder what made them so sad that they could include it so well into a song.”

Aside from the fact that Elia and Obella were still much too young to even get such musical lessons – Elia only five years old and Obella even younger – he could understand her argument. Then though he answered her “The princess has always been known as shy and melancholy. Maybe it was only that. After all, at least in this aspect she is Rhaegar´s daugther indeed.” He could not stop his voice from turning darker at the end of his sentence. Understanding, Ellaria smiled at him.

“I am very much aware of this. I have been in King´s Landing almost as much as you, after all, but nonetheless I think there is something more about it. They way she was holding herself and her gaze... she seemed so afraid that she would be laugh at. Even her intent to cover it up, could not hide it. And I do not know...but with all those rumours and the great dislike everyone is obviously showing her...Oberyn, I just feel sorry for her. Even in Dorne she is not save the mean words the people are throwing at her and if I consider the rest of the realm, I hardly think it will be better here.”

Oberyn nodded understandingly. There might be the general attitude that Dorne did not hurt little girls nor would it punish children for the sins committed by their parents but of course Dorne was not perfect, either. Every region had its black sheep and Elia and Rhaenys had been greatly loved in Dorne, as was every member of house Martell. To think that Dorne was also the by far most understanding region in Westeros, he could imagine what the people would tell about the princess in regions like the West or the Riverlands, both regions which had suffered most under the rebellion of the usurper , and even now had to deal with the consequences of it. There were great many people who were simply content with picking up one specific individual and accusing him or her of being the solely reason for their suffering.

Since Rhaegar was still widely beloved and Lyanna had mostly remained an unknown character, the fault for everything had been laid at her feet but as she was already dead that unfortunate heritage had been passed on to her daughter, as if she was some symbol or herald for the misfortune of the realm. Adding, that Connington – fool that he was – had done nothing to hinder such rumours and had actually fuelled them, had caused the princess an almost realm-wide bad reputation. With this in mind, it was easy to guess how her life had to be in this gods-forsaken city. It was not a life he would envy her for.

“You might be right about this, my dear, but what do you think I can do about it? As much as I would like to, I can not change the nature of men.”, he finally answered her, regret audible in his voice.

For a second Ellaria´s eyes brightened “I am sure if there ever was one who could accomplish such a task, it would be you.” Then the worry returned to her eyes. “But it is not only the people in general I am worried about, I know we can do as much about them as that we could change their general opinion about Dorne. It is Connington I am worrying about most. As you already said, he seems not too fond of her. It is not a secret.” Now, her voice sounded downright angry. “And have you not seen the look he cast her, after she had sung that song? It sent chills down my spine. Everyone who had looked at me this way, I would not trust to have my best in his interest.”

That look of Connington he had seen as well. He did not like it one bit, though to be honest, he had seen men far more frightening than the Lord Regent. After all, it was difficult to be afraid of a man who looked like he had been set aflame every time he turned angry. He thought it quite immature and not fitting a man of his position. But from the point of view of a shy and frightened child, he guessed that Connington was as fearsome as an attacking bear and to think that he would frighten the girl on purpose made him feel as angry as Ellaria.

But another aspect made him even more concerned, the fact that Connington would show his dislike of the princess so unveiled. It was either another proof of how much a fool Connington was or how ill suited he was for the position of the Lord Regent or maybe it was both. As a prince – fortunately for him as well as Dorne, not _the_ prince – of Dorne, he knew much and more about the etiquette of a royal court and therefore he was very much aware of the many mistakes done by Connington. The said behaviour of his, regarding the princess, was maybe one of the greatest mistakes, he could have done.

Of course, as in every court of the known world or family of a noble line there could be discord and quarrel between the various of members. It was only natural that a family would not always be at harmony with each other, as he himself could tell, and even between the dearest of lovers or the closest of brothers there would come a time in which you could not bear the other´s presence due to a dispute of some kind. But what none of them could ever forget was that in the end all of them were still family, were still the representatives of one line, which meant that every conflict you might have, you could not show it at the open, could not allow your people to see it.

Since as soon as your people got aware of the discord between their rulers, how could they further consider you suited for maintaining peace and prosperity if you were not even able to do it in your own house? This was also one of the reasons he still held a great dislike of his former sister-in-law. Not only had she left her family – her husband and her children, which had caused each of them great grief, particularly his brother – no, she also had created a weakness for house Martell which each enemy of theirs could and had and still used against them.

He might love Dorne almost as dearly as he loved his family since each Dornish was, in his mind, an extension of his family but despite of it, he knew that as much as the Dornish loved his house in return, they would not accept or forgive any weakness of them. As their words said, the Martells had to remain _unbowed, unbent and unbroken_. Every ruler who wanted to maintain his reign should not forget this, the might of those he reigned.

Hence he knew how much of a weakness Connington created by such behaviour and not only displayed he his dislike of her, but invented each of the crown´s enemies to treat her with disregard and disrespect as well, did they need not fear of being punished for their behaviour.  
Were it not for Aegon he would have though it hilarious how much Connington led himself to ruin – except for the fact that the princess had to suffer from it – though unfortunately Aegon was very much involved in the deeds of Connington. And the recent deeds of his spoke not of a decent or competent ruler.

All of the Lord Regent´s shortcomings, all of his many, many mistakes would in the end reflect on Aegon and his reign. Connington in and on itself was not important, he was meaningless but Connington in his position as the king´s representative was very much a danger for his will was equally the will of the king, may he still be a boy of ten years old.

As such Conninton grew more and more a matter of worry with each passing day and again Oberyn had to wonder how – by all existing deities – could Rhaegar have determined such an incompetent and arrogant man – since as much as there were various hints of Connington´s failure, the man refused to differ from his plans and his destructive way of ruling – as the Lord Regent of the realm? His former brother-in-law had had many mistakes but at least a bit of intelligence he could have expected of him. Though as it seemed, Rhaegar was even in this regard as much of a failure as in everything else.

It was to their great fortune that Aegon was so well beloved by his people – him being seen as the living remainder of their beloved silver prince and even now protagonist of his own tragic tale of the sort which would be spoken of even in hundreds of years after. Indeed, the tale of his, of a young prince, forced to take on the great burden of the throne just shortly after loosing almost the whole of his nearest family had made Aegon almost into a figure of legend and was, at least until he grew older, the main reason Aegon was so very popular in the eyes of his people. Oberyn often thought, they expected another Jahaerys the first whose life remained so often the one of Aegon, though he hoped the young king´s life would be filled with less the tragedies the old king had been faced with in growing age.

Elia would be proud of him, that Oberyn was sure about. His nephew was the very embodiment of how a king was ought to be. He was kind but not blinded by his compassion. Passionate but not controlled by his emotion. And with his clever way of thinking he was altogether the reflection of his uncle Doran and his mother, the way he would silently consider himself and the world around him. Not to forget that Aegon was a talented fighter as well, something the Red Viper silently saw himself responsible for and was not a trait, Aegon had inherited from his actual sire.

Were it not for his very Tagaryen like look, Oberyn would have been convinced Aegon were the perfect Dornish prince, the best of traits of the three Martell siblings united in the young king. Elia´s compassion and wisdom, Doran´s wit and acumen and his own martial abilities and charisma, Oberyn mused proudly.

Again he cursed those responsible whose fault it had been that his sweet sister could not be with them and see what kind of man her son had grown up to be. And Rhaenys, what kind of woman had she been destined to become if not for Rhaegar´s games and the madness of man? The bitterness cut deep and bloody in his very heart with each memory of them since even the love and pride he felt for Aegon could not erase the pain of their absence. Grim thoughts in mind, he felt his hands clench into fists.

But no, as his brother always warned him, he must not allow the anger and grief to overwhelm him but to live on and enjoy the life which he and the rest of their family were granted with. They needed him still, Aegon in particular and as he had promised Elia, he would not allow anyone to harm her little boy. To fulfil his promised every thought of his own grief had to be banished, had to be imprisoned behind the carefully crafted bars of his heart.

It was a task difficult to master since unlike Aegon or his brother, Oberyn always had to fight with the mastery of his feelings. As Ellaria would tell him repeatedly and his mother had warned him about even in young age, he was a man who lived by his emotions, equally those of anger or joy or the deepest of grief. His emotions and the whole passion by which he would treat his life, were what determined him as who he was. It provided him with the rare ability to regard those around him, granted with less fortune than him, with a compassion almost unrivalled but also was a way to the grave danger of loosing himself in his emotion and as a result to act without thought and no consideration what consequences his rash behaviour would cause those he loved.

To Doran´s greatest relief, his younger brother seemed to have finally learned his lesson but for the first two years after the destruction of King´s Landing. During those, Oberyn had hardly been able to stop himself from demanding murder and pain for those he saw responsible for the loss of his family, above all newly crowned King Rhaegar. Were it not for Doran´s admirable ability to remain his composure and the fact that the king´s heir was of Dornish blood as well, he was almost sure that the relations between the crown and Dorne might have been destroyed once and for all, so great and feral had been his rage and accusations.

Nonetheless he regretted none of his actions taken, for they had been done rightfully. Though he felt pride as well for having been able to regain his composure. It was an admirable feat and another reminder of the incompetence of Connington, who failed time and time again in mastering his own boisterous feelings.

Not only in matters regarding the princess, he would allow his feelings to take over but his whole reign was plastered with the careless decisions, made by a man not the master of his own mind. And if there would be no change in the foreseeable future, Oberyn feared what this might bear for consequences for his nephew and the realm with him.

Already there were signs of unrest among the people. Rumours of their supposed discontent with the crown´s management of the latest challenges like the still parading vagabonds and the increasing hunger, particularly in the capital. Also Connington´s still lasting restrictions and taxes – most of them unreasoned and unnecessary – were a for years discussed issue of worry among even the Lord Paramounts.

In all honesty, initially he had taken his great satisfaction to see the men at fault for his family´s pain melt into misery. He had not wanted to spent even one ounce of pity for them, nor could he have done so if he had been forced to do, though his mind had known – deeply hidden it might have been – that his beloveds´ deaths had not been their pursued goal when they had went to war.

His consciousness had know that it had been Aerys´ hand that had murdered his sister and his niece – the mad king´s own relatives by marriage and by blood – and the golden lions supposed inability to rescue his helpless charges. Yes, he blamed the Lannister boy almost as much as the one who had carried out the actual stroke for he knew that the tale Lannister had told them about the happenings in the throne room during the siege, ringed with falseness.

Never had he adopted the same friendship with the lions as his mother had done in her youth with the late Joanna Lannister. The tales she would tell him and his siblings spoke always of a warm-hearted and friendly companion, as beautiful of character as she was in outer appearance but when he and his sister had come to visit Casterly Rock after the Imp had been born, he had felt neither welcome nor had he taken a liking to any of the remaining family members.

He could still remember rather well as the then young Lady Cersei had delighted in hurting her newly born brother and spoke about his approaching death almost gleefully. If it was true that Cersei had taken after her mother in appearance than it was also true that she had inherited none of her lady-mother´s gentle character. Later events like Cersei´s stay in King´s Landing as one of the countless court ladies and her not too well covered dislike and jealousy of Elia had only deepened his mistrust towards them as well as Tywin Lannister´s increasing cool relationship with the king.

The whole lot of them tended to ambitious aims and had not taken well to the king´s refusal to marry the young lioness to the heir of the throne and if the rumours rang true, Lady Cersei had taken an especially wrath to have been replaced by a _weak and ugly Dornish brute_. Oberyn had been more than relieved when Lord Tywin had resigned as Lord Hand and had taken his daughter with him back home.

Unfortunately at the same time Lord Tywin´s heir had been made one of the knights of the King´s Guard so that one lion had only been replaced by another and worse, one who would be near his vulnerable sister and her children at all times. Even his uncle´s reassurance that the boy – only sixteen at the time – showed great promise to become an honourable and capable knight, had not been able to calm him down and to their great pain and misery his dark foreboding had been proven right.

Elia and Rhaenys were dead and the one responsible still remained in the king´s presence as one of his devoted protectors. None had listened to his warnings that Lannister was not be trusted, that something of his tale was utterly wrong. Oberyn could not even tell exactly what it was, he just knew that there was something that the boy was hiding and it was nothing good. How could it have been that although Jaime stood guard to the king at all time, he had not been able to stop him in his murderous ravage? Why did Aerys have a sword and whom had given it to him in the first place, a man who did not even cut his hair and nails anymore in fear of cutting himself? Furthermore why had been the boy so pale and confused and did not even dare to meet his eyes when questioned?

Part of his behaviour could be explained by the circumstances he had been in but also later Lannister had behaved strange and evasive. This had only cemented his belief that something more had happened, though at least he refused to believe that Lannister had killed them himself. During an argument with Arthur – one of many in recent years – he had been confirmed that he could not have done such a deed but how much could Oberyn trust someone who had betrayed his place of birth? By the way albeit Arthur had been convinced of Ser Jaime´s innocence, also he had confessed to be confused by certain events which according to Ser Jaime had taken place.

When his distrust had not vanished, he had gone to the king but time and again Rhaegar had failed. He remembered too well his feral fury when Rhaegar had denied his accusations, stating that Ser Jaime had been questioned and that his statement had been confirmed by witnessed – interestingly those had vanished out of the sudden when Oberny himself had wanted to question them and no hint of them remained. The king had pointed out as well that if the Lannister´s had something to do with the princesses death, why then lived Aegon still?

That was something Oberyn wondered himself and was the main reason he had not already poisoned the whole lot. A living crown prince would prove a great hindrance if the Lannisters wanted to see their own on the throne even if they would have been successful in marrying Lady Cersei to the new king. Every son she might have given birth to, would still be second place behind Elia´s son.

At least with Rhaegar´s death any farther attempt to marry into the royal family had failed and with it any other possible attempt on Aegon´s life. Now he remained their only chance for royalty by marrying Tywin´s eldest granddaughter Myrcella to Aegon. Another option would be Viserys but according to what he had heart about Aerys´ second son, Oberyn could hardly imagine that they would be eager to try him.

Mad he might not be but arrogant and not too intelligent and otherwise another possible catastrophe for the realm. Lord Tywin would not want a second stubborn king to tame and would be too old in a few years to rule in his stead anyway, a fact the old lion had to know. During his rare exchanges with the Lord of Casterly Rock he had become aware of Lannister´s true ambitions as far as he could guess. A man of the martial arts the Red Viper might be but he has learned his other lessons as well and particularly history was an aspect he had invented much time of his, promoted by his brother.

Thus he knew of the shame of the Lannisters and the weakness which had befallen the mighty house in the days of Lord Tywin´s father, Lord Tytos. Unlike his father, Lord Tywin was set on presenting his house as strong, the mightiest house of the Seven Kingdoms with a legacy to be respected. And how would his house be more respected than as part of the ruling family?

Were he younger it might have been a possibility to use Viserys as a puppet king and to rule as the grandfather of the queen as his Lord Hand but now such a plan would only hinder him and his wished legacy, his family intertwined with a weak king and an unstable realm.

Oberyn did not like the fact that it made his dear nephew into a simple means to an end, beloved and desired by many only due to his station and power and not due to his real self. Of course did he know that Aegon faced no different situation than any other king before him and as princes of Dorne, he and his brother had been faced with a similar fate as well, but too oft did it remind him of how his sister had been used by the Tagaryens, a means to an end to deliver children for the crown, not to be regarded as a value of her own.

“Oberyn? Oberyn! Do you still listen to me?” Ellaria´s voice tore him out of his thoughts. Startled he turned towards his lover.

“I am sorry, darling. I fear I was lost in thoughts.” Annoyed with himself, he frowned. Usually he did not allow his mind to wander thus, particularly if in company of his most beloved. It was not a manner befitting him to ignore Ellaria, nor was it in any way a considerable feat if one spend his time better in the observation of his surroundings. Dwelt he in a less festive environment, such a digression might have cost him dearly. One never knew when your attention would be most needed and at which times your enemies might decide to set their next move.

“That I see.”, Ellaria said, her voice a mix between concern and irritation. Despite her gentler facets, his paramour was a proud woman who did not like to be ignored. But when Oberyn cast her an apologetical half-smile and brushed about the surface of her hand in reassuring circles, her eyes began to resoften to her commonly passionate expression.

“Since I started this conversation, your mind seems to be preoccupied with other matters. What is it that torments your mind thus, my love?”

“It is nothing.” He continued to brush his thumb about her hand, almost absent-mindedly. “There are just the one or other issue you addressed which brought some worries of mine back to my mind.”

Ellaria lend forward, her hand taking his into a loving embrace. “Is it no more than that? You know you can always confine in me. Please, Oberyn, tell me what troubles you.”

He was tentative what to tell her. Though he knew, of course, that he could trust her with his life and that his lover was more than capable to share his worries and advice him accordingly, he was not too eager to ruin her evening, which she until now had quite enjoyed, apart from her own announced worries, with farther concerns. Later there might be time for thus but in truth he did not feel inclined to dwell in his own bitter and troublesome thoughts any longer.

He was about to respond when suddenly there was a voice out of the sudden, addressing him “Prince Oberyn.”  
It sounded slightly strained and held within an eagerness, he did not like.

Surprised, Oberyn turned around only to be faced with the sight of the man he had expected the least to have to deal with this evening. Jaime Lannister. The golden boy of Casterly Rock. If there was one person he was less inclined to see at the moment...The gods could have no more ill-suited humour.

Without even thinking he felt his expression darkening into a deeply lined scowl and another wave of renewed fury arose in him.

“What is it, Lannister?”, he snarled, trying not in the slightest to sound civil. Next to him, he felt Ellaria tensing.

“That is something to be better spoken off in private, Prince Oberyn.” Still his voice held that strange and unusual strain.

Oberyn did not waver. Indeed, he felt a hint of irritation to be spoken to in such a manner and the hand which still was covered by Ellaria´s, tightened into a fist.

“Is it?”, he growled. “ I would think not. I could think of no matter which needs to be discussed between us both.”  
Ellaria squeezed his hand reassuringly.

His opponent´s eyes narrowed slightly but answer, he did not. In the following silence, an almost tangible tension built up between them. “If you will not speak then, you will excuse me, Ser.” Oberyn made a dismissive gesture with his hand, likely to beckon him away like a mere servant.

Lannister´s jaw hardened and his complexion went pale. His lips tightened and for a short instance the knight looked anxiously aside.  
Another second passed and Oberyn was nearly positive that his opponent would answer no longer.

When he finally answered, his voice was reduced to an insistent whisper. “Is it true that in Dorne they do not hurt little girls?”

More than the general encounter, this question caught him unawares. He felt slightly dumbstruck and in his puzzlement the only reply he could utter, was an unintelligible “What?” as if he were a drunken imbecile.

“I asked if your folk spoke genuine when it claimed that in Dorne, they do not hurt little girls.”, Lannister repeated, this time more tardy and almost condescending as if indeed he was speaking with a drunkard.

Irritated and now somewhat embarrassed by his uncharacteristic deficiency, Oberyn hissed “I understood your question very well, Lannister!” Then, more petulant than necessary to mask his still lasting ignorance, he added “What I do not comprehend is your intention behind your question. What end do you seek, asking thus?”

The man met his gaze unflinching, displaying no sign of having heart the prince´s question. “Is it true then or not?” This time the knight´s voice held a hint of a challenge within, yet if Oberyn was not mistaken – and he rarely was, being an virtuosi in reading the feelings and thoughts of his fellow men – he saw a recurrence of the nervousness he had detected earlier. That and another hint of urgency.

Leaning back into his seat Oberyn countered “What would it matter? After all, you are hardly a little girl.” To emphasize his argument, he let his gaze roam up and down his opponent´s body.

Something fierce gleamed up in Lannister´s eyes. Anger overtaking him, he snapped “But the princess is! If you will not help me – as I know, you would scarcely do – at least help her. Or is your word no more than empty boasting?!”

“What are you talking about?” Immediately he quit his relaxed posture and sat upright.

“The princess. She is in danger. She is...”, but here, the young knight broke off, his countenance displaying once again an uncustomary anxiety, almost even dismay.

“What ails Princess Visenya, Ser?”, interfered Ellaria then. She as well had sat upright in front of Ser Jaime´s strange behaviour.

“Tell us, Ser Jaime, for I see, it seems to be urgent.” Her gentle tone was genuine which Ser Jaime apparently was discerning for himself. When he answered her, his voice had lost its hard edge, he would show her counterpart, but still it maintained its uneasiness. “I am sorry, Mylady. I still do not think that such topic is best to be spoken of here. There are some...complications which at best should not be heart of by the whole court. Thus I ask you again, Prince Oberyn”, he breathed and turned towards the Dornish-man.” If you are willing to listen to my request and help me in this matter. If you are not, then tell me now, otherwise I am only wasting my time.”

While the second part was uttered harshly, the plead sounded nonetheless genuine, as much so that Oberyn was at first surprised that the otherwise overly proud knight would condescend so far as to plead his cause. This more than anything convinced him of the sincerity of Lannister´s request and after a moments hesitation to consider, he said earnestly “Dorne and I stand to our word, Lannister.” As if it ever could be otherwise. “Lead the way. Quick if you may for you sound as if there remains little time left.”

Ser Jaime nodded and without giving back another word, he turned around and made his way through the crowd, heading to the exit of the Throne Room. Oberyn followed him swiftly, after exchanging a worried look with Ellaria.

When they reached the passages without, he demanded “While we are on our way, would you be so friendly as to tell me, what is going on. I think we are gone far enough that no one will be able to eavesdrop on our exchange.”

Hurrying along the next passage, Lannister responded “The princess is in danger.” He cursed internally. “You already said as much. I need specifics.”, he interrupted, anew incited by irritation. The knight´s dismay bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Not caring for his words, Ser Jaime went on. “As may be Aegon.”

Abruptly he came to an halt. “What!? Where is he!? Why has you not called for aid earlier and where are the rest of the King´s Guard!?” He almost shouted. That stupid and incompetent half-wit. If anything was to happen to Aegon because Lannister had once again failed in his duty as a King´s Guard he would kill him. This time he would. Did he not know how to protect...

His inner ravage was interrupted when the other came to an halt as well. He shook his head and said “Blount is with him. He is in no immediate danger, at least not in any physical one but...” Also this sentence he did not finish but instead looked aside with an hardening jaw. When his gaze turned back to him, he regarded him with a determined look in his eyes. “You have to see for yourself but now we do not must waste more time.”, he concluded insistently.

“What do I need to see for myself?”, Oberyn said dangerously slow. But the knight had already kept on. Oberyn had to hurry up to catch on. “You will tell me immediately, what is happening here and where we are going!” He seized him by his shoulder which caused Lannister to come to an halt once more.

The knight tried to throw off his grip but Oberyn was too strong. Angry he scowled at his face. Almost shaking, Lannister growled at him “There is no time! And even if I had the time for an explanation, I hardly think you would believe me. All you need to know is that Connington is hurting the princess and that we have to move now or worse might happen yet.”

“Connington!”, he exclaimed, surprised but somewhat feeling affirmed in his dark premonition. Who but him would dare to physically attack a member of the royal family? Who else would consider himself so untouchable? But the confirmation brought him no joy since who also knew what he would do to the princess, with an uncontrolled temper like his and his lacking discernment?

“He did not take well to her performance earlier. Afterwards he has brought her to his office, whither I followed him. There we are heading now. Prince Oberyn, I am aware that the situation is difficult to understand but I need you to trust me.”, Lannister said levelly. “I cannot explain but believe me when I say that the situation is grave and that you only will trust it, if you see it for yourself.”

Just what was Lannister up to? And why did he refuse to disclose what was actually going on in that office, they were heading to? Fighting his inner reluctance, he releases his grip on his opponent´s shoulder. If the knight spoke the truth, he might come to regret his momentary hesitance. It might even cost his nephew and the Princess Visenya dearly. But still the mistrust remained. “I will get answers. One way or the other. But if you betray me or show even a hint of being a danger to Aegon, you will wish you had never crossed my way.”

Knowing where they were heading now, he led on. Soon enough they arrived at the destined passage where Connington´s office was situated. From afar Oberyn could see that the door was closed, a likely means to conceal the crime proceeding behind.

Strained, Lannister addressed him “I can not go with you. When I tried to intervene, I was accused of treason and had to leave. I went immediately back to the Throne Room to search for you, for I believe you alone have enough influence to end this madness.” The last part he almost growled and his gaze went dark with disgust.

“One may think, a member of the King´s Guard would not allow one like Connington to prevent him from exercising his duty.”, the prince could not help but sneer. He was puzzled at such a behaviour since for all his disparaging feeling towards the knight, he would never have taken him for a coward. He just could not imagine a boisterous and golden man as Lannister was, to be intimidated by the Lord Regent.

“Yes.”, the knight agreed darkly but for another hardening of his jaw and a brief flash of his eyes, he said no more. Somehow though, he thought, the simple answer contained more than what was to be deciphered at first view.

He cast Lannister an awkward look but did not grace him with a retort of his own. There was no time to waste. A more insistent questioning could be postponed to a later date, however he already knew that there would be one. He doubted that Connington would be too informative.

With no further delay, Oberyn made three long steps and flung open the heavy oaken door. At first sight, the scene unfolding before him was very much in line with his set expectations. In the centre of the room, next to his desk was Connington, his expression a display of grim satisfaction. Still he wore his red and white coloured tunic and the dark breeches from the feast.

The princess, he detected immediately. Despite her hunched and dishevelled form, her suppressed sobbing gave her away with ease. She was cowered on the floor when a third person seized her by her arm and lifted her to her feet. A loud cry of pain escaped her when said person gained momentum and let the flat side of his sword hit against her left calf. As soon as the man let go of her arm, she fell back down to the floor.

From his position, Oberyn saw the man´s profile only but along with the white shining amour, he easily recognized him as Boros Blount, the newest addition of the King´s Guard. But it was not the knight´s unexpected presence with gave first way to the impression that something was amiss with the scene before him. No, what made him shock into stillness, was the presence of the forth person lingering into the chamber.  
There, standing firm and unmoving, was Aegon.

More extraordinary yet than catching him wondrous, as Lannister had done before, was it to catch the Dornish prince in a state such as he would display now. A state of shock such as one would mostly get to experience in case of receiving a grave wound or tidings of your loved one´s death, which in the Red Viper´s opinion made no difference. For sure he could enumerate less than a handful of people who had ever seen him thus and with exception of his brother, he doubted there was any still living who had seen him in that state more than once. The most recent time, he remembered mournfully, when tidings had come from King´s Landing, informing him about his sister´s and niece´s deaths.

His first coherent thought then was that Aegon´s presence could only mean that he had come to end Connington´s cruel behaviour. As the king and the princess´s elder brother, he hardly could allow such treatment to be applied. It was, what he would have done in his stead.

But Lannister´s words still echoed in his head, or more precisely what he had refused to speak off. He had mentioned Aegon, had spoken of some lingering menace for him, and thus had implied an involvement of his but any specifics he had deliberately withheld. It was the main reason for Oberyn´s anger and distrust of the knight, after all. Way to much had he sensed the subliminal feeling that something more sinister had prompted Lannister to search for help with an enemy but for his fear what Connington might do to his little protégé.

No, the Red Viper was neither a fool nor a coward who would rather delusion himself about what he saw instead of facing an unsavoury truth just to guard himself of an hurtful reality. When he looked at Aegon´s face, there just was no other way but to interpret his countenance as less than contemptible. No way for him but to look at Aegon as an actor of his sister´s torment.

“Did I not order you that you are to be relegated from this chamber, Lannister? You already had your chance. Now you will bear the consequences of your insubordination.”, Connington barked harshly. Still he was facing him with his profile so that he had not taken notice whom he had actually addressed. When his gaze turned finally to the intruder and he caught sight of him, he loudly exclaimed “You!”, his voice containing all of his loathing for the visitor.

The Lord Regent´s provoking reaction caused the prince to compose himself and lured him out of state of stillness. He breathed “Yes, I. “, and did not try to veil his own sense of contempt.

Their exchange awoke the other's awareness of his presence and when his nephew´s eyes found his, his face turned from pale to flushed and he averted his gaze seconds later.

“Uncle, what are you doing here? Why are you not at the feast?”, he asked haltingly as if he did not know what to say.

“The same I could ask of you, nephew. Why has you retreated from your own feast and now tarries here like a thief in the rearmost corner?”, he returned the question coolly and serene, his cadence containing none of the warmness by which he would usually converse with the king.

Aegon noticed his change of tone as well for he looked slightly taken aback and in his eyes Oberyn could spot hurt and puzzlement. “I...I was...”, he prepared to speak but Connngton interrupted him.

“The crown´s affairs are of no concern for you, Prince Oberyn. You better return to the celebrations, we will follow you soon after. Then you may speak with the king if you so wish.”, Connington snarled. This was followed by a dismissing gesture similar to the one, he had just plied on Ser Jaime.

“I wish to speak to him now.”, he growled in return but his gaze never wavered from Aegon. At his Regent´s intervention, he had started to nervously knead his fingers. Almost absent-mindedly Oberyn remarked that he better had to unlearn this gesture. At court it would give away his inner thoughts too easily, always a disadvantage for the king.

They were startled when another sob escaped the child on the floor. It only enhanced their attempt of talking around the actual topic of hand and made the uncomfortable atmosphere of the room increase in its oppressiveness.

“Please return to the feast, uncle.”, his nephew bide him. This time his posture and voice carrying more steadfastness, as if the few passed seconds had given him time enough to recover from his uncle´s unexpected – and as it seemed – unwanted intrusiopliedn.

“Not before I got any answers, Aegon. What are you doing?”, he repeated his question vehemently. The more time he spend in this chamber, the more he felt his temper slip away. It seemed as if his whole dismay and anger of this evening, his earlier exchange with Ellaria, the constant reminder of his loses and Lannister´s involvement had gnawed away at his every inner rampart and now his emotions were just before boiling over. The boy better had to answer before this happened.

“You heard the king, you are dismissed. I am sure in the meanwhile you will find yourself a distraction. You never showed any problem to so in the past and your ...paramour will certainly aid you in your efforts.”, Connington sneered with a not to be missed pause at the word _paramour_.

Now with boiling anger Oberny thought what Connington might have wanted to say instead. _Whore_ or _slut_, maybe? Or _hooker_? As if it mattered what he thought. He would never understand the freedom of the flesh, the freedom of passion and what Ellaria meant to him. She was not only his partner in bed but his partner in live, might she bear the surname _Sand_ and be not his lawful wife.

“One more word of you and you will lose your tongue, Connington.”, he hissed seethingly through gritted teeth. At the corner of his eyes he saw Blount pointing his sword in his direction. At Oberyn´s entrance, he had stopped his assault at the princess. Otherwise though he had remained silent.

Taking the colour of an ripe apple, the same as he had done before in the Throne Room, Connington ranted loudly “You may be a prince but do not presume to speak to me at such a cadence! I am still the Lord Regent and thus your liege. You better chose your next deeds carefully or Dorne will bear the consequences dearly. You are dismissed, Prince Oberyn. At once!”

_How dare he! How dare he to threaten Dorne!,_ Oberyn thought full of dismay. How was it even possible for one man to be as short-sighted and incompetent as Connington? He already was near the abyss without even taking notice of it and now he would add menace and insult to one of the few regions of this realm which was indeed loyal to his reign, if only to support their king? Were it not for Dorne´s support, who knew what fate would have awaited Connington if not for them.

Chuckling darkly he said “Not for much longer will you hold your position. Not for much longer. We will see how you will fare without Dorne to support you, particularly if your continual stupidities will have cost you your head. How much longer do you think the people of King´s Landing will accept your ignorance of them or your incompetence? But I do not have the time to waste it with a fool.”

Ere his opponent could give him any respond, he had already averted his gaze. It was Aegon he had to question now and Aegon who´s answer he needed. During their exchange he had not moved even a finger.

“And again I ask you, Aegon, what are you doing here?”, each words spoken deliberately slow to indicate his nephew his almost spent patience.

Throwing a look past Blount at his sister, who til now had not dared to intervene or even move away from her place on the floor, he said “I am only executing my duty as a king.”

His patience lost, he shouted “Do not give me silly platitudes, boy! I asked you WHAT are you doing!?”

As he had hoped, Aegon shrunk back, intimidated by his favourite uncle´s outburst. Quieter than before but the head still heal high and with false pride in his eyes, he exclaimed “I have ordered Ser Blount to hit Visenya. He is executing my chosen punishment for her crimes.”

Pained, he closed his eyes. Hoarse he asked “Why? What – by all gods – could have possessed you to do thus?”

“I just told you. I am punishing her for her committed crime. Has you not always told me that each king´s task is to bring justice?”, his nephew called almost petulant.

“What justice!? I merely see a girl cowering on the floor while her brother is watching her getting harmed instead of protecting her! Do you think I simply would have stand by while my sister was getting hurt? And tell me, what kind of crime could a seven year old child commit that would justify such a punishment!?”

“She is only my half-sister.”, he defended himself but otherwise did not offer him an answer. But no matter what, Oberyn already knew that nothing Aegon could have said, would have been a justification for his deeds.

“And do you think the fact that my daughters are only half-sisters themselves has hindered them from loving each other?”

“You do not understand!”, Aegon shouted. “That is different.”

“I do not see why. And I still demand an explanation from you, Aegon.” Slowly but steadily his voice rose in volume again.

“Why? Why would you want to know? What does she matter to you? She is nothing to you.” The voice in which he uttered that words was so full of contempt that he almost did not recognize it as his nephew´s.

“Why!? Why I would want to know your reasoning for harming your sister? The boy I know would never do such a thing! Elia´s boy would never do such a cruelty and if he does I damn want to know his reasoning!”

“But you do not know what they told! You cannot know! And what everyone is still telling. You have no idea!” This time it was Aegon´s turn to sound hoarse but Oberyn detected a hint of desperation as well.

“Who is telling what?”, he demanded to know.

“Everyone!”, he said screaming and his frame began to shake. “She is at fault! For everything! It is her fault that they are all dead. Rhaenys and mother and father and now she is trying to ruin everything again! I can not allow that to happen again. I cannot and I will not.” Here his voice broke.

Oberny´s anger lost some of his edge. It was replaced with another wave of grieve. Here at least was something he could understand, at least in some parts. Of course Aegon had to know of the rumours surrounding his sister. It was impossible for him not to, particularly when in almost constant company of Connington. But never would he have guessed that these rumour would affect him to such a degree, he would display now. How could they have not seen this? Not even his uncle had ever mentioned something even similar. But despite his understanding of the pain that had to cause his nephew, he still could find no justification in those facts.

“And you think that is what they would have wanted?”, he asked incredulously but in a softer cadence.

“I will never know what they would have wanted!”, Aegon snapped then.

“But I know”, Oberyn reasoned sternly. “I knew your mother much longer than you and she never would have wanted you to hurt an innocent and your sister no less. You do not do her or Rhaenys honour by your deeds. Quite the contrary, she would have felt ashamed of you.”

Immediately he saw the hurt in Aegon´s eyes and Oberyn felt almost sorry at his harsh words but it was important, maybe even essential that he understood his wrongdoings. His anger and shock had not banished the worry Aegon´s act had caused him to feel. This display was dangerous and had revealed some part of his nephew he had not been aware of before and which was most unfitting for any ruler.

“Then maybe you did not know her as much as you thought.”, Aegon almost whispered.

Again Oberyn felt a wave of anger approaching him but this time at least he tried to suppress it. He did not give back any retort. He then tried to approach the princess. With huge eyes she had followed each word they had spoken, tears still running down her already stained cheeks.

When he was about to pass Aegon, the boy said hushed “I did not allow you...” but he did not finish his sentence when his uncle send him an icy gaze. Flushed and with his hands balled into fists he turned away.

When Blount was about to block his way, Aegon shoke his head. “No, let him pass.”  
Connington just snorted and send him an unholy gaze.

As carefully as he was able to Oberyn fetched the startled princess up into his arms, her whole body shaking like a chased deer, but at least she was aware enough to lay one of her thin arms around his neck. He walked back towards the door and opened it one-handed. Before passing through though he turned once more to Aegon. “We will need to talk about this again later. And you, Connington, if I should hear one more time about you having harmed the girl, be assured that there will be nothing that will rescue you of my wrath.”

With long, angry steps he made his way through the door. Meanwhile the girl was pressed tightly to his chest. When he entered the passage, he immediately saw Ser Jaime lurking in the shadows, who at seeing him exiting the Lord Regent´s chambers, made his way to him with a worried expression plastered on his face.

“Why did you not warn me, Lannister?”, he hissed, his anger again at a boiling point at the sight of the knight. “What purpose did you seek to have me caught unaware!?”

Lannister did not flinch but said levelly “I already told you that you would not have believed me otherwise. You had to see it with your own eyes. But do you understand now why I needed your help? They had warned me that any intervention of my side would be seen as an act of treason and my life would have been forfeit. I gladly had given it but the princess bide me not to. You see, I had no other option left but to seek your help. You are the only person, I could think of, with enough influence on the king to counter Connington´s sway about him. It is as if he was taken by a madness.”

Yes, he had seen now. And he understood Lannister´s reasoning but that nonetheless did not change the fact that he had let him run into a situation he had hardly been able to manage, a situation that caused him a bone-deep anxiety. And thus he simply could not bear to look at him without his anger boiling up again.

“I...thank you for your help, Prince Oberyn.”, Lannister said in a measured cadence. His eyes caught his opponent´s eyes and there Oberyn could detect the honesty of his words. “I am in your debt. You can hand me the princess now.”

To the knight´s puzzlement though Oberyn said “No. I will take care of her.” His offer of debt the prince ignored. He held no wish to ever make use of a Lannister debt, the less he had to do with them, the better.

“She needs to see a Maester!”, the knight objected forcefully. “If you have not noticed, she is hurt.”

“I have seen it hence I am bringing her back to my rooms. I have knowledge of healing myself and I do not trust your father´s lackey. If you want to help, you will get out of my way!”, he hissed irritated. He wanted nothing more but to leave that place and be left alone.

Faintly he saw doubt in the knight´s eyes and for a few seconds he hesitated but then he nodded and moved aside. “Take care to treat her well.”, he said at last and with a hint of a threat. _Did he think, that he would abuse her himself just after rescuing her of such a fate?_, Oberyn thought bitterly and snorted.

He passed the knight and ventured around the next corner. He made sure to move as swift as possible while taking care of not harming the princess further. The one or other time he could hear he whimper in pain whenever he had to shift her weight in his arms. With reassuring words he tried to calm her down but he did not see if she actually reacted to his words. Still she had not spoken even one word and her shaking had not ceased, either.

On the whole way back to his own accommodation, his thoughts tarried at the just happened. He simply could not understand what had driven Aegon to act as he did. Nothing he had seen in that cursed chambers had reminded him of the sweet boy he had known since birth. His outburst and the blank fury and loathing he had shown towards his sister...It was not to comprehend.

Of course, he knew that the closeness and the affection he and his family shared was rarely of the same level in other families, especially among the great houses. Rivalry and envy or even lasting disappointment often drove even the closest of blood relatives to deeds of shame and horror such as the murder of brothers in order claim the family´s title for oneself, despite the sermon of the clerks of all civilized gods that the killing of the own blood was a crime never to be forgiven.

History revealed much and more of such occasions and among the Tagaryens, war within the family was even more prominent than other-where, the Dance of Dragons or the four Blackfire Rebellions being only the most notorious of examples. But he had hoped, more yet, had been convinced that Aegon was of too much Dornish blood to practise even similar behaviour, too much a child of the strong and gentle hearted Elia to even have a hint of such a characteristic.

Often he would wonder what animated the Tagaryens to such deeds. People always telling that they were not like other folk, in times of Valyria even thought to be god-like. Some of that believe had settled even in Westeros, being the main reason for their allowance of marrying brother and sister and in times of Aegon the first, to take two wives at once. It had created great man like Jahaerys the first but also led to lunatics like Aegon´s grandfather, the mad king Aerys. Greatness or madness had always been their drive and regarding the outcome, would be seen as a sign of one of them. Had Aegon the conqueror lost, certainly he would have been seen almost as great a madman as Aerys.

In their current Aegon´s deed there lay no sign of greatness and Oberyn feared what consequences his outburst would have had, were it not for his intervention. It left him to wonder what it said about his nephew´s character. But by no means was it possible that Aegon was infected with the same madness of his grandfather, it just could not be.

Before he knew, he arrived at the door to the chambers he and Elia shared for the duration of their visit. Now more than ever he was glad that he had been given chambers in one of the more private areas of the castle for he knew that the less people got to know about the evening´s events the better.

Not to imagine what consequences Aegon would have to face if ever was revealed that their king had ordered his own sister to be abused. Too much would it be a reminder of the unhealthy relationship between Aerys and his unfortunate sister-wife Rhaella. Oberyn thought, not even the princess´ general unpopularity could help Aegon then, displayed it not a sign of missing security and peace in the court. Not that life at court was ever indeed save but at least the semblance had to be given, the same as every discord among the ruling family had to be concealed.

One-handed he handled the knob of the door when suddenly the door was opened from within. Standing there in the frame of the door, was Ellaria. Her face was set in an expression of weary anxiety.

“Oberyn.”, she breathed relieved but the frown of worry between her eyes did not cease.

“I did not want to wait for you at the feast anymore hence I retreated to our chambers already. I had the feeling that you would return hither. What has happened?”

“Later. I have to explain later. First I need my healing devices. Bandages and needle and thread and something to disinfect.”, Oberyn responded her hurriedly.

Taken aback Ellaria then took notice of the girl in his arms. She had probably taken her for a bundle of clothes at first. Startled she exclaimed “Oberyn, what is the princess doing here!?”

How could he tell her? And what should he tell her in the first place? How could he make his lover understand what he himself had still not grasped in its whole extent?  
Growling he said, “Connington. It had been Conninton.”

Ellaria hissed like an angry cat. “How could he! A little child!? Has he gone mad!?”  
At her words Obern had to wince. Carefully he laid the princess down unto his and Ellaria´s own bed. There she laid now and but for her still shaking form did not rouse one muscle. At least the shaking had discreased. Wearily he observed her when he suddenly got aware of her wide open eyes, the paleness of her facial colour and the way her breathe escaped her in hectic pants. She had fallen into shock.

Alarmed he called “Ellaria, swift, fetch as much blankets as you can find and light the fireplace. She has fallen into shock.” In the meanwhile he took the blanket still laying on the bed and wrapped the girl in it. Inwardly he cursed himself for not having looked after the girl earlier. He could have guessed that she may fall into shock after what she had to experience. Instead he had spend his time with himself and had spoken about her as if she was not even there.

“Everything is fine, Visenya. All is well. You are safe now”, he tried to address her as gentle and calm as possible while projecting a reassuring smile, which he though thought more cumbersome than anything else due to his still lasting anxiety. At least, he hoped the use of her name would help.

Fortunately Ellaria soon came back and with hands more gentle than his own could ever be, she wrapped another bunch of blankets around her while shooing calming words of her own.  
At last, he did not know how much time had passed, her shaking vanished and it seemed as if the princess was short of falling asleep. It was only naturally and when her eyes finally closed, he let her drift into sleep, though only after checking whether the shock still affected her. It would be of no use if she fall asleep while still in such a state.

Ellaria stood up from where she had been seated during their attempt to calm down the princess. Yawning herself, she whispered as not to wake the girl “We better go and let her sleep, the poor child. And then you can tell me what transpired between you and Connington. If what you tell is true, Aegon needs to be informed immediately. By harming a member of the royal family, he has committed treason, Oberyn. You know what that will have for consequences?” Still she sounded incredulously and angry.

But Oberyn shook his head “No, I still need to look after her injuries. She was hit by a sword on her legs. I do not know how often and what damaged that might have inflict but I know that her legs pained her.”, he said and slowly laid the child thus that her could unwrap her legs. Darkly he added “And Aegon already knows.”

“He already knows? How?”, Ellaria asked puzzled.

“It was him who ordered Boros Blount to strike her with the blunt side of his sword. It was how I found them. All three of them gathered around while she cried out her pain.”, he gritted pained.

For a moment, Ellaria did not react, as if she as well had fallen into shock. Then “No, that cannot be true! Aegon would never do something like this!”

“I did not want to belief it myself and still would not if I had not seen it with my own eyes. Therefore Lannister wanted my help and refused to talk at the feast.”

“But how? And why?”, she exclaimed erratically.

“I do not know but he claimed he did it as punishment for his mother´s and sister´s deaths but still that is no justification and he had to know that she is not at fault for those. If he wants to accuse someone, he better focus on his own mad grandfather or Rhaegar or even the wolf-girl but not his own sister.”

He wanted to say more but finally he had removed all covers from Visenya´s legs and the sight that met him there stilled his voice. Again a hot wave of fury and dismay overcame him and suddenly he wished he still had the chance of participating at the joust. It would be too easy to arrange some accident for Blount which at least would lead to a lasting crippling which would make it impossible for him to ever strike at another little girl.

From calves up to the beginning of her bottom the princess´ legs were covered in deep purple bruises. At some places the sword even had to strike so forcefully that it had made the skin burst so that blood was running down her legs. It was a wonder, he had not broken a bone or worse, that he had not slipped and maimed her. And still the done damage was already bad enough, for sure the princess would take some time before she could walk properly again. Behind him, he could hear Ellaria cry out horrified. “By all gods! What have they done!?”

Oberyn could not answer and instead took a rag into his hand and let some alcohol drop upon it. Somehow pure alcohol often prevented infection to spread and what they needed less in their situation was for the princess to fall ill with an infection as well. Carefully he wiped away the thin trickles of blood and afterwards wrapped her legs with the bandages Ellaria had brought him. But despite the pain the treatment had to inflict on her, the princess did not wake.

When they were finished, Ellaria asked ”What do we do know?”

“I will write to my brother. The situation we are caught in now is dangerous. If even a hint of what transpired this evening gets to the public, it could have dire consequences. And what we have to make sure is that Aegon will be removed from Connington´s influence. I know my nephew is not mad. I have never seen him thus before and I hardly think any ten years old would be able to cover something like that if he were mad nor do I think he had acted by evil intent alone. I just know that the boy would never do something like this on his own hence the only reason can be Connington. He hates the princess since the day of her birth, we just never knew to what extent. Somehow he had persuaded Aegon to hate her as well and poisoned his mind with his madness. That most of the realm is thinking thus as well, had not helped at all.”

He knew that what he said was feeble at most but he could think of no different at the moment and that at least he believed with all his might; That Connington was the main instigator.

“And what if it is not Connington? What if there is something more about it. You have heard the rumours. They are telling, there had been a dispute between Aegon and his sister. Maybe we do not know everything yet.”

“You may be right. Something more could be behind it but I do not think that that is the main reason. Connington is and therefore he has to go. And he will.”, he promised darkly.


	9. Breaking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay (as always) but since the last chapter I finally made my Graduation and hence had to spend a lot of time learning. Furthermore I spend time rereading the story from the beginning to improve some of its content and grammar. For all of you who are interested in how I imagine Visenya to look like - at least when an adult - search for the fanfic The Wolf´s Fury by Trolltek. In chapter 11 there is a picture of a character goining by the name of Lyanna Baratheon. Add dark purple eyes to the pictures appearance and a more narrow and longer shape of face, you can see how i imaginge Visenya to look like. As always enjoy the chapter.

Jaime Lannister

It was a bright day. The sky nearly devoid of any clouds and the sun beaming powerfully upon them; so much that Jaime felt the sweat running down his back and making the shirt he wore below his armour cling to his skin. Initially, he had welcomed the change of weather and the chance of taking a ride outside as today presented itself the first day with amiable weather after having to endure a nearly constant rain and unusual coldness for three months.

There had been best of summer's weather during the tournament, however, it had taken a turn to the worse only days after the celebrations had come to an end. He thought it quite fitting though, for did it only reflect the atmosphere of the court. None could have escaped the tense mood which had suddenly enveloped the Red Keep.

However, after being plastered at the same place for more than an hour, surrounded by heat radiating bodies and clad in his shining armour, his enthusiasm had long since faded.

_If only the High Septon would hurry up_, he thought impatiently. He could swear, he was nearly as windy and monotonous as Grandmaester Pycelle.

The Septon was just about to bestow upon their young king the blessings of the Seven, which ought to have him protected during his voyage to Bravos. From there on the ship was to travel further to the port of Sunspear, where the court of his uncle Doran would already await him.

Said voyage was the final result of three months lasting negotiations between the crown and the Dornish party and Jaime had to confess that he looked forward to it with ambivalent feelings.

On the one hand it crafted a very needed distance between Aegon and his sister. Since the horrible events during the feast, the gap between them had only intensified and for almost a week afterwards the princess had not even been able to leave her chambers due to her grave injuries.

Too well did he remember the day after the feast when Oberyn Martell had born Visenya back to her room. She had to be carried as she had not been able to walk on her own. As Jamie had feared the injuries inflicted on her by the hands of Connington were grave, her legs up to her bottom plastered with purplish marks and cuts. The prince had left her with an erstwhile stock of milk of the poppy to alleviate some of Visenya´s greatest hurts and indeed the princess had been in need of such aid as the pain would otherwise keep her from sleep.

Furthermore, Prince Oberyn had inflicted on him the warning that any hint of the princess´ mistreatment had to be kept secret out of fear that the tidings of her mistreatment would get around the court. Jamie could well comprehend such notions for it would bode ill for Connington and Aegon, ought the knowledge of what had transpired behind the closed doors of Connington´s office become widely known. Even in regards to her reputation as the unloved and unwanted princess and with Aegon´s popularity, such cruelty as had been done to Visenya would not be tolerated by a court which had seen too much unrest among the royal family in recent and rarely fondly remembered years.

Thus, the illusion of peace, which at current situation was already strained enough as it was, had to be upheld by all means for its consequences could prove disastrous. There remained still enough opportunists who would use a possible strife between the siblings to their own ends. Schemers and intriguers who would not shy away from composing an afresh civil war.

And indeed, Jamie had heeded the prince´s _advice, _albeit reluctantly and with bleak mood. Since, as much as he had been aware of the tense circumstances, as much as he could well comprehend the sense behind such acting, he had had not wanted to cover up for another liege, he did not consider worth his protection and fealty as he had been forced under Aerys´ reign. It had made him sick to the stomach to witness another injustice done by a king and not being able to do anything about it.

But alas, he was left with no other choice but to do as he was told, also due to the fact that this way was the only one at hand that would allow him to aid the princess.

And aid her he did with the added support of Ser Arthur, Maester Tylos and Lady Elaerys. He had decided that it would be for the best that the fewer people were inaugurated the better and thus had taken a measured choice. Ser Arthur had to be included for he would never let himself deceived and regarded Visenya as his personal charge as much as he did. The maester they had needed as it had been resolved to feign the princess to have fallen ill as well as having been in need of someone to tend to the princess' wounds.

Well, and Lady Elaerys...her help they had gotten only by a fortunate chance as he had not wanted to include her initially. Yet as it had happened, she had pried at Visenya´s chambers for two days after the incident had taken place where she had almost demanded entry to tend to her allegedly sick student. Visenya had not been able to attend the feast afterwards – of course – but the same was true for her lessons, thus each of the princess´ appointments had been postponed or declined.

There had been none they had feared upon discovering the secret of the princess´ actual ailment for the lie about her illness had been widely acknowledged by the court. It was easy enough to believe and moreover offered an explanation for the princess´ recent hint of sorrowful mood that had visibly befallen her during the evening´s celebrations. This time they had even gotten the chance to benefit from Visenya´s usual isolation of any closer contacts for it had made the task of guarding the truth even easier to accomplish.

It had worked out fine but for the exception of the Lady Elaerys. She was a perceptive woman, with keen eyes and a strong will who did not let her easily misguided. When they had tried to keep her at distance by claiming the princess being too ill to attend her harp-lessons, she had seen through their deception at once. However, he surmised that even without her astuteness the Lady Elerys would have uncovered their plot. Neither he nor Arthur were any good in deception and did not tend to hold their feelings to themselves albeit Arthur was not known for his outspoken character.

Unfortunately, he could not claim the same about himself as he had to constantly fight down his anger and resentment against whatever would bother him. He did not posses what Tyrion and his father would call their _political mask_ to conceal his true thoughts and feelings.

It had been a wonder that not more folk had taken notice of what was going on for only the master had managed to reign in whatever he had thought about the whole incident. From the moment he would tend to the princess up to the moment he would leave them afterwards, he had held up his demeanour and only due to the long closeness he had shared with the maester over the years had he been allowed to glimpse behind his cool and serene mask of tranquility.

From where he was placed, he had a good view on the crowd of nobility that had gathered to see their king go off. First in the row stood Visenya, stone-faced, and beside her Connington with his features carved into a scarcely-hidden mien of annoyance. He as well had to find the procedure of farewell to be overly enervating and tedious.

With them, merely a step or two behind them, stood the several members of the small council but for the exception of Mace Tyrell who had announced to have fallen ill with a nasty fever. His family – in particular the Lady Olenna – had claimed he would survive it but still Jaime wondered how much the illness affected the lord in truth for the fever had to be strong indeed to cause the absence of a lord of such importance on such an eventful day.

In his stead, however, Lord Mace had sent his own mother and daughter along with his youngest son Loras. All three were situated to the right of Connington.

Following the Tyrells were the Celtigars. Lord and Lady Celtigar were both sweating heavily, the perspiration tainting the elaborated and colourful fabric of their clothes. Lord Celtigar was just about to wipe away drops of sweat that ran down along his red flushed face while his wife tried to wave herself fresh air with the aid of her fan. Their son Axel Celtigar stood between them. His face betraying even more prominent his dislike of attending the procedure. His features warped into an annoyed scowl while he would shift his weight from one foot to the other every few minutes.

“...and may the gods cast their protecting light upon him to lead him and guard him on his way.”, the High Septon proclaimed.

Jaime had stopped listening to the old man´s preach at least half an hour ago, yet, still his prayer would see no end, albeit the Septon himself was covered head to toe in sweat and appeared as if he would topple over at any minute.

It would be hardly a wonder for the Septon was fat and bulging, his legs scarcely able to hold him on his feet and his double chins wobbling with every word he uttered. Moreover, he was covered in thick and rich fabric, rimmed with threads of gold. On his head he wore a heavy crown and his fingers were adorned with rings of silver. Jaime could not avoid to comparison with a swine dressed in silk.

His Holiness then lifted his hand up into the air to bestow upon the young king´s forehead his sign of blessing. Humbly Aegon accepted the gods´ offering, his head bowed before the Septon and his hands folded serenely.

Albeit only ten years of age was Aegon almost as tall as his opponent. However, in contrast to the High Septon, his appearance was one of dignity and youthful strength. He looked wholly the king that he was, clad in the black and red of his family and a crown resting upon his head. The sun shone in his hair, so that it almost seemed to cast a halo around his head, which provided the otherwise tiring procedure a nearly solemn trace.

Furthermore, Aegon seemed hardly bothered by the sun and its oppressing heat as one of the very few. The only other one not influenced by the weather, being his sister. She as well was dressed up in black and red and stood even more regal than her brother did, her expression motionless and rigid. Almost hollow.

Wearily Jaime sighed. He was as helpless in comforting her as he had been when Visenya had been taken by her sombre mood at the beginning of the tourney. Now though the situation was even more grievous. And that although he had thought that she could get no worse after whatever had taken place between the siblings at the beginning of the feast.

Still he was none the wiser about what had actually happened those days, yet, in regards to what had transpired afterwards, he had resigned in attempting to pry those information out of her. It was obvious for all to see that both occurrences were related but still, for all that had happened or not happened, it would never be able to provide Aegon and Connington with an excuse for their deeds. _Never._

The princess´ behaviour was concerning, however, not in any way of unruliness. In truth such troubles had never been part of her melancholy character. Yet, each hint of vitality had abandoned her, her smiles vanished behind a mask of rigid indifference. Whenever the chance occurred and her mask would slip, he came to regard her brows being furrowed in fear or insecurity.

He had known her long enough to be aware of her countering pain and hurt with silent contemplation and isolation but never to the extent she exhibited now. The fact that Connington had come up with the claim that the princess could be no true Tagaryen due to her having fallen ill, had not aided his attempts in comforting her as it was a common believe for the Tagaryens to be not affected by illness as ordinary men would be. And indeed, Jaime could not recall a day either the king or Visenya had been ill aside of a mild cough.

She had fallen silent ever since, so much in fact that one would think she had been born mute. No conversations were held, not with him and Arthur nor her ladies-in-waiting. She did not laugh, she did not occupy herself with plays, she did not ride out. She even refused to play the harp any longer and not even Lady Elaerys gentle attempts to encourage her to resume her lessons could change her mind.

It appeared as if everything she had found joy in; she had banished out of her life. Jaime was positive that the princess had even discontinued her roaming through the Red Keep as he had long suspected her to do when she in fact was supposed to spend her time in her chambers in silent self-study.

At times she would feel well enough to grace him or one of his companions with a timid smile, yet, it would never reach her eyes and made her look only more shattered and broken. Instead of dedicating her time to riding and playing, however, she spent increasingly more time of her leisure with reading and studying and for her the lessons with her maester seemed to have become the most essential of her duties.

Maester Tylos had always welcomed the princess´ eager studies and her prompt and at times nearly solemn dedication to her duties, yet, even a man as him found no good in the high of isolation the princess bestowed upon herself. He would call it unhealthy and at some point even dangerous for a young child as her to distance itself from play and company, claiming it would only lead to loneliness, and if done for a lengthened timespan to bitterness or in the worst case madness.

This last part of the maester´s declaration Jaime had considered at first to be exaggerated due to the man´s fear of his young charge but as he had to stir up all of the many memories he had kept about Visenya´s family history of mad relatives – her grandfather the only most prominent one, might he forever rod in hell – his conscience had changed his path rather quickly.

After all, was it not a common saying among the small folk that every time a Tagaryen was born, the gods would toss a coin to see whether he would be destined for greatness or madness? Well, his believe in the gods had never been particularly steadfast. His family – first among them his father – had never approved of the idea to place the own´s fortune into the hands of – at best – indifferent – at worst – non-existent beings. And after all that he had already seen, at least, in this aspect he could agree with his family. Whether there were gods or not, he could scarcely belief for them to be interested in the struggle of men. It was either that or they had a wicked sense of humour.

However, albeit her studies with the maester had become her priority, her devotion to the female arts had intensified in almost the same measure. Yet, Jaime could see no reason for the _why_ as he knew that she found no joy in those lessons nor in the company of her ladies-in-waiting, and in the septa´s even less.

He could detect it more clearly now, all the disdain the old witch would display towards the princess. When Visenya had not been able to attend the tourney afterwards and had been declared ill, Septa Urnella had even dared to appear at her door and demanded for the princess to offer an explanation for her absence during such an event of importance for her brother. As it had seemed, the old woman had seen through their lie, yet, believed it to be an excuse, a reason for the princess not to come as she knew as well as Jaime that Visenya did not share the enthusiasm for festivities as the other ladies of her age did.

Arthur and Jaime had stopped her from entering her chambers. The septa´s presence which in other times might have offered reassurance and comfort, would be of no help in this case but presumably only worsen the princess´ situation. Instead of the septa or other servants, it had been the Lady Elaerys who had tended to her other needs, whereas he and Arthur had stood guard at her doors.

The young woman´s approach and care was probably more healthy for Visenya than any help they could have offered her in this matter as men so often lacked the gentle side by which the other gender would tend to its charges. Neither of them would have been able to find the right words to say and Jaime had often contemplated that at times only the gentle hands and words of a mother could heal hurts such at these. And if there had ever been a mother figure for the princess, it would have been the Lyseni woman.

But still, despite of their efforts the princess acted as if replaced with another child and now with Aegon travelling to Dorne, Arthur would leave her as well since the king would be accompanied by three of his King´s Guard, Prince Lewin and the sword of the morning among them.

He and Boros Blount would remain in King´s Landing to guard Visenya and the Lord Regent. As if to torment them further Blount had not been chosen to travel with his king to the court of Sunspear and Jaime strongly suspected that had it been otherwise, the knight would not leave Dorne again.

Connington had as well taken a liking to him for he was as obedient as one could wish for a servant to be and unlike his other brothers, would not look upon the Lord Regent with contempt. In fact, the knight was probably too narrow-minded and dull to even come up with the idea to regard his surroundings as anything more but a means to satisfy his own simple needs and thus would not bother to form any judgment at all.

Once more Jaime wondered how it had come to be that a man the sort of Blount had gained a position among the King´s Guard. But with Connigton being the useless regent that he was, the question was possibly futile. Both he could now only encounter with disgust and loathing. For both of them he had only left ….

Finally, the High Septon came to an end. In a last gesture, he let his hand rest upon the young monarch´s head and imparted his final blessings. Done, he stepped aside to make room for the king, his bulging stomach wobbling with each step.

Aegon turned around to face the crowd gathered behind him. Approaching them, he neared the position of his foster father when Lady Magaery emerged abruptly out of the ranks of the waiting people and threw her short arms around the king´s slender waist.

“I will miss you, Aegon!”, she exclaimed frankly, her voice filled with emotion.

His features contorted into a genuine smile, he glanced down at her. “And I you, Mylady.” The sudden action had not ruffled him, his composure steadfast as ever.

Slowly she released him, her cheeks slightly flushed when she seemingly took notice that her display of unrestrained emotion did not quite correspond with the courtly protocol.

“Promise me, that you will take care of you and that you will safely return to us, Your Majesty.”, she said softly, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

“Your wish is my command. I gladly promise to safely return to you, Mylady.”, Aegon recited gravely.

The young lady´s face was graced with a bright smile and gratefully she tilted her head. “Then there is nothing stopping me from wishing you a good journey, my king. May the winds that bear you on your travels be well and may we see us soon again.”, Lady Magaery imparted with all the dignity a lady of her standing good muster.

Almost whispering, she added after a short moment of hesitation “Farewell, Aegon.”

In her eyes, Jaime detected a hint of unshed tears, yet, albeit her features were now contorted into an expression of misery, no tear escaped her. Instead she straightened her spine and took her place among the crowd once more.

Aegon turned his attention to Lady Olenna, his head slightly bowed in a gesture of respect. “I hope, we, too, will meet again, Lady Olenna.” His shoulders straightening, he continued now without a hint of playfulness as he had done with Magaery. “As I had to grant your granddaughter a promise, I would ask for one in return. Take care of her as I would do and of yourself and the rest of your family as well.”

With an almost toothless grin the old lady retorted “Well, if you demand nothing else of me. My son being the overprotective fool that he is, I do not think that your wish will be too difficult to fulfil. I am again sorry for my son and his wife to have caught an illness. They always had a bad timing for such things. Both of them. I am sure they would have wanted to wish you farewell as well.”

Smiling sheepishly, Aegon said “There is no need for an apology, Mylady. I know that they have wished to be here today. No insult has been made. Please, offer him my farewell as well and tell him that I will miss his advice and company dearly.”

“I am sure my son will be pleased to hear of your praise of him, Your Highness. I will impart him your words, though I fear they will only increase his sense of self-importance.”

Her words uttered in dry cadence made the king laugh. “Lord Mace has earned his rank justly, Mylady. Do not underestimate your son. In the last years he has become an indispensable member of my council and I have always listened to his advice gladly.”

“I congratulate you to this rare ability then, my king. Heading advice is an ability all men with power ought to possess at times. Do me a favour then, my boy, and keep well attentions to your surroundings when you are in the south. That place had always been a dangerous ground to be on. You can never know where a viper is about to strike next and Dorne is overcrowded with them.”

Frowning slightly, Aegon nonetheless responded placidly “Whichever place I will be at, I will always pay attention to my surroundings, that I can assure you off, Lady Olenna. There is no need of alarm for you.”

Considering the common history of the houses Martell and Tyrell, Jaime could guess that the notion of Aegon – their supposed means to ascent the social ladder – spending years in enemy´s territory, did not bode well with the Tyrells. Regarding their young monarch´s reaction towards Lady Olenna´s less subtle warning, he appeared to be aware of their ongoing conflict as well. Both houses were not keen on forgetting – not to speak about forgiving – past animosities.

“As you say.” The old woman inclined her head compliantly. Jaime, however thought to still hear her voice containing a touch of skepticism as if she persisted on knowing better and Aegon would soon come to see for himself.

“Until we meet again, Mylady.”, was Aegon´s only respond and gracefully he took the lady´s hand into his own and pressed a soft kiss upon her wrinkled knuckles.

Aegon went further up the ranks of nobles who wished to offer him their blessing and who-knew-what-else while Lady Olenna approached her granddaughter. Mildly she addressed her “Now that you have told your farewells, Magaery, my dear, be so kind and escort your old grandmother back to the castle.”

With an exaggerated gesture she wagged cool air at herself and nudged against the near of her neighbour to make some place for her. “Being my age, too much time spend in the sun does me no good. Had the High Septon not finished soon, I feared yet, I would have shrivelled like an old plume.”, the tiny woman muttered impatiently, however, not without gracing her only granddaughter with a narrow-lipped smile of hers.

It was no secret that Lady Olenna held her youngest grandchild in especially high esteem, even more so than her other grandchildren.

Based on the impatience in her voice and her wish to prematurely retreat from a courtly event of such significance, Jaime pondered that the weather could indeed have done her no good for rarely would the Queen of Thorns ever admit to any sort of weakness on her site at all. In this regard she resembled quite a lot of his family.

“Assuredly not, Mylady. I do not reckon that the sun could do you ever any sort of harm. You look a woman half your age, that I am sure about.”, a sudden voice announced with false cheerfulness. When he saw who had spoken, he immediately recognized Lord Celtigar.

The addressed woman wheeled on him. “Ah, a flatterer”, Lady Olenna muttered dryly and regarded him with hard eyes, one brow creased such that the wrinkles on her face were only pronounced more. “And a bad one at that as even without the sun offering its aid, I am halfway through looking like a shrivelled plume. I am to fear for every woman you have encountered as they will soon look like a thrown-away fruit.”

Dumbstruck Lord Celtigar narrow shaped cheeks flushed deeply red but Lady Olenna had already focused her attention elsewhere, not waiting for any answer to be returned.

“You will excuse us, Your Highness. I am sure _you _understand the ailments of an old woman.”, she addressed Aegon instead, who in return gave her an dismissive nod.

Slightly Jaime chuckled. Being not her intended victim himself, it was almost comically to witness Lady Olenna´s sharp-tongued assaults.

Demurely he watched Aegon process the line of present nobles until he eventually approached the Lord Regent. Despite Connington´s mild smile – an expression so scarcely seen upon his features – it was apparent how much he despised the notion of Aegon leaving King´s Landing.

It could be easily claimed, that if there had ever been one whom the Lord of Griffin´s Roost loved, it was Aegon. Well, him and the late King Rhaegar. It was plain to see for everyone when watching him interact with his charge in rare gentleness. His love for him even outgrew his love for his position of power. Possibly the only good feat he possessed of.

However, his initially care of Aegon had in passing years increased to unwholesome possessiveness of the young king and it did not set well with him, to let him out of his sight and place him among a nest of vipers, as he would voice his objection.

The danger of Aegon being influenced by his indecent maternal family was too much of a threat. Moreover, each piece of influence they would gain on the child-monarch, would be henceforth influence lost by Connington. It was not an outcome; he could allow to betide. Who held sway on Aegon had become a contest about all but the future of the realm itself.

Moreover, he had invested too much time into grooming Aegon to be the king of his conception. Had invested too much effort into forming him into a young man of honour and decorum as he envisioned it. That implied that there was no room for any ideas the Dornish might impress on him. _Who knew what poison they would whisper into his ear, what ideas they would try to impart on him?_

The Dornish had always been deceitful and sinful, not worth the trust past kings had granted them as they had repeatedly proven. As Connington would disparage about the failure of Elia Martell – wisely out of hearing range of Aegon – he would denigrate the Dornish as a whole. The fact that Dorne harboured no word of goodwill for his beloved Rhaegar, was another strain upon their relationship.

Thus, as far as Jaime had been otherwise privy to, the today´s outcome had been quite the quarrel between Connington and the faction of the Martells. Connington´s rejection to heed the advice of others had steadily increased with the years passing by, yet, that the Dornish prince Oberyn Martell had to be the one ordering, had not simplified the attempt to make the Regent listen, either.

Adding to Connington´s dislike of the southerly region was equally the fact that the sudden absence of the realm´s monarch did not invite stability as it would create a bad impression of the young king if he was to disappear so suddenly and in a time of need.

In this respect Jaime found himself even siding with Connington. Nothing was more vulnerable than a king who hide from his people. He had to be seen or they would lose their trust in him.

That was especially true for the actual situation. For two years the realm was caught in a state of tense wariness. The last three month had only worsened that situation and now if felt as if with every day the atmosphere would discharge into terror and grievous fighting.

The hunger which had only briefly been stilled by the nameday festivities three month ago had broken out worse than ever. The expected good harvest of this year had indeed occurred. However, many fields in great parts of the Riverlands and in some parts of the West and even the Reach had been either burned down or stolen by vagabonds on their way towards King´s Landing or other greater cities.

In the past half year their numbers seemed to have only grown or at least the vigor of their raids. However, Jaime wondered where they might originate from. Bandits and highwayman had always existed and it was also true that in times of strain and hunger their numbers would increase but still, the amount of raiders they had to deal with now, was troublesome. Witnesses that had been questioned also reported of targeted and well structured assault, the kind of no mere common culprit could devise of.

By now, even Connington had acknowledged the problem they posed and thus had ordered men to patrol along the roads that led to King´s Landing and elsewhere as well as send out soldiers to guard and search nearby forests.

As much as he liked to see Connington fail, Jaime hoped that this measure would prove successfully. He could not estimate how much longer the people of King´s Landing would simply stand aside and let things pass. Worse, they did not even have the possibility of trading by sea as the conflict in the east had only increased.

Tidings had reached them that the Tiger party in Volantis had gained a new leader who was set on winning over the power of their rivalling party of the Elephants and now it seemed, the free cities were integrated more and more in the conflict as each of them had their own ambitions which they expected to be fulfilled by siding with one of the given opponents. As a result, the trade by ship had come to a stillstand for ships were now often intercepted before they could even moor at the intended port.

It did not simplify matters, either, that since the Rebellion great amounts of people had fled into the cities as Connington´s numerous restrictions had delayed the much needed reparations. Without a livelihood to set up their lives, former farmers and their families had to leave their homes behind to search for work elsewhere hence leaving less people to cultivate the fields.

Yet, at least Jaime could draw one advantage out of all of this. Visenya and her brother would be at distance, which for now was his utmost priority. Even the Martells had acknowledged that keeping the siblings from each other was possibly the only solution that would grant them to lead Aegon back on the right path, along with keeping him away from the toxic influence of Connington.

They would adjust his education and thus take care that the past incident would never repeat itself. Otherwise Jaime did not want to imagine what future the realm would face. And still, even under the care of the Martells he did not feel at ease.

What Aegon had done and what he had ordered Blount to do was not something to excuse as a simple child´s tantrum or as something that could be resolved by a few harsh rebukes and lessons by an authoritative uncle. No, this had been provoked by something more but the dislike and strained relationship he had to his younger sister. And this _something_ might prove to be inevitable and unalterable, even for the Martells.

“My king, tread carefully while you are away. And always remember who you are.”, Connington professed brusquely. He then bend forwards and laid his hands upon the king´s shoulders in a gesture of affection. “And have no fear, I reassure you that I will keep an eye on the city until your return.”

Aegon looked up at him, his eyes containing a likewise affectionate shine. “That I am convinced of, Jon.” He did not hug him as he had done with Magaery but as he had offered her a smile, he did offer one his foster father. “Farewell, Jon, and keep care to look out for yourself as well.”

Connington inclined his head in consent.

Suddenly the tension augmented as Aegon now had only one left to say his _Goodbyes_ to. Visenya. Without moving she had followed the events in silence. Her face still revealed no motion as Aegon approached her.

For a moment it seemed as if Aegon found no words to say. Then he spoke “I hope when we see again your illness will have dissolved, Visenya. I wished you could have come with us, but I fear your place will not be with me. Yet, I am convinced Lady Magaery will provide you with all the company you will need and your ladies-in-waiting would surely miss you if I should have been so bold as to bereft them of your splendid company. Goodbye.”

Jaime could not detect whether his words had been meant as a mockery or whether he had imparted them with the intention of earnestness. Whatever had been his true intention however, Jaime did not feel convinced of either. Had Aegon´s voice contained at least a hint of amusement or affection beforehand, now his voice sounded stilted and his words forced.

Unexpected gracefully in regards to this rather strange address of her, the princess curtseyed. It provided her with the few necessary seconds to contemplate what she ought to say to him in return.

“I appreciate your worry for my well-being, Your Highness. Be assured that it shall be returned. When we see each other again, I hope any sort of unwellness of yours will have dissolved as well.”

Albeit her tone was bordering on lifeless and monotonous, her words did not sound quite as forced as Aegon´s nor as if they were uttered merely as a set pleasantry.

“Take all the time your need with your family as it is one of the greatest treasures we have and time with them should never be taken for granted. And deliver the Martells my greeting, I would have been pleased to meet them. Particularly Prince Oberyn as I still owe him a debt.”

This approach surprised him greatly. Having spent as much time with her as he did, he knew to look beyond her calm and timid appearance and thus was aware that the princess very well possessed a temper of her own, yet, he had never known her to venture as much as she had done now. Till this moment she had never made mention of the incident, nor had she even hinted at what had transpired between the siblings months ago.

Aegon took the clue and his false smile vanished as soon as the words had left her mouths. For an instance his eyes wandered to Connington as if to look out for help. It seemed though that the Lord Regent was as much taken by surprise as Jaime had been and aside of this, was possibly to deeply engaged with his own anger to offer the king any help.

More coolly now, Aegon answered her “I have given so many promises today that I am sure I can include yours as well. Gladly I will deliver your greetings, sister.” As much a neutral answer as he could muster, but a good one nonetheless as few appeared to have taken notice of anything being amiss.

Visenya curtseyed once more, Aegon inclined his head in return and then nothing more was left to say.

At his side the members of his King´s Guard, Aegon crossed the plank that connected the ship with the paved shore. The captain gave order to cut the lines and to set the sails and then they only had to wait and watch the ship farther distance itself from the shore. Some cries were exchanged from ship to harbour and back, accompanied by the screams of birds circling above their heads.

When Jaime glanced at Visenya, he saw her winking at the vanishing ship. Her eyes were cast at Aegon but he knew the gesture were actually meant for Ser Arthur who was standing right next to the king and returned her gesture. He thought to detect a sad smile gracing his lips.

His gaze passed by the ship and rested upon the spreading waters. He did not know what the future might bring.

* * *

In silence they rode on, up the hill and back towards the Red Keep. With each step they took Jaime felt the atmosphere around them darkening, suppressed anger and anxious desperation making the air vibrate. The tension as palpable as if only moments before the outbreak of a storm.

Feeling anxious and on edge Jaime eyed the crowd that was lined up all along their way up the streets of the city. His gaze wandered up to the open windows of a large house to the right of them, its outside walls blackened with dirt and mud and the wood of doors and windows splintered and careworn.

His eyes rested then on the people itself. One might not think how much the past two years had cost them. They looked almost as careworn as their houses and many of them bore gaunt and haggard faces the like one would harbour after having gone too long without a sufficient meal. Their eyes followed their procession with gazes containing equally wariness and anger within them and as such only reflected the all surrounding mood.

Since the great fire set by Aerys the city had not regained its past prosperousness as Connington treated much too stingy with the money of the treasury, incited by his everlasting distrust towards all who had not fought with them during the rebellion. Instead quite the amount of money had been spent on strengthening the outer wall of King´s Landing.

Still, the people had built up new lives for themselves, as they always did even if the times were strained as they had been in the years after Rhaegar´s death. But with the recent inconvenient development even the folk of King´s Landing could do nothing to improve the situation. After all, what could one do when no food ever reached the city and all ways of obtaining some elsewhere were circumvented as well?

In fact, Jaime did not even think that the lack of food was the only aspect triggering the angry mood of the common people as he knew that they had endured worse in the past. However, partly they had to be angry also due to the fact that Connington, in his position as their current regent, had decided to be blind to their troubles till it was almost too late to remedy them. Jaime could well understand their feeling of having been abandoned.

Further they rode and Jaime´s tension grew. He knew the short amount of time it needed to turn a tranquil throng into a furious mob. He feared one wrong move and the situation would escalate. It appeared Blount had realized that much as well as he approached Connington closer and laid his hand upon the pommel of his sword. An unwise idea as the gesture incited vexed murmuring among the citizens.

“Help us!”

“Do something!”

“Coward!”

The people called out eventually, yet, save straightening his posture Conninton did not respond to the shouts directed at him. However, Jaime imagined his face to be drawn into a scowl. He had never born insult well and in particular the word _coward _did not go well with him. The shouts grew only more in volume and aggression.

“The king has left us! And the griffin will soon follow him, flying away with his overgrown wings, the coward!”

“Why are you abandoning us?!”

Others picked up that question as well but started to add further insults to it. Then.

“He has taken the king, now he will take the throne!”, another cried anxiously which another responded with “He and the Martells, they are trying to usurp King Aegon!”

Suddenly a man called out “Traitor!” and it seemed that this above all else had caught the attention of Connington. As sudden as the shout had been, Connington called for a halt. Immediately the people grew quiet.

Standing up, his feet steadily supported by the stirrups of his saddle, Connington addressed the crowd around him “Good folk of King´s Landing, I am now here amid you and have listened to your concerns and distresses. Be assured that I have not only heard them but that I understand them and that I will do everything in my might to remedy what troubles haunt you.”

His voice grew louder to make sure that everyone being close to them understood him when he continued “Be also assured that it had not been my wish nor the king´s to travel to the south but an inevitable necessity forced upon us by folk who are no friends to us. But as monarch, King Aegon saw it as his duty to respond to those folk and as such has to travel these shores in order to bring peace to each of us once more!”

If Jaime had been possible to, he gladly would have hit himself with his open palm against the forehead. _How foolish could one man get?_ Even if Connington had not openly called the Martells the king´s enemy, he had all but implied it. The only actual house that in each case would support the crown unquestionably.

For an instance Jaime thought the Regent´s words had reached the crowd but then one voice called “Liar! You are leaving us to rot!” and the till seconds before stilled mass of people again erupted into shouts and accusations.

“Liar!”

“Usurper!”

“Your reign has brought nothing but...” what obvious troubles Connington has brought them, Jaime did not hear as suddenly another voice called – this time he believed it to be a woman´s “The bastard princess! She has cursed us!”

Alarmed he stared first into the crowd to detect from where the shout had originated from, but as he saw no one, his gaze wandered worriedly to the princess. At the shout, she had flinched as if hit by a fist.

“Yes! The bastard has cursed us! She and her whore of a mother!”

“The griffin and the bastard are at fault!”

Steadily their voices rose in volume and intensity. Accusations directed equally at Connington and now also Visenya. Of course, people in distress would accuse almost everyone in order to unload their anger and of course did he know of the position Visenya took in the common folk´s eyes, particularly here in the capitol but still it was difficult to listen to the crowd accusing the little princess the way they did and also in a way so absolutely unfounded.

He wanted to pave his way closer to the princess when he saw at the corner of his eyes a hasty movement. Alarmed he wheeled his head around only to see a man – skinny and covered in filth – stumble forwards out of the ranks of the incensed masses. He suspected a beggar, too tired and exhausted to remain standing.

His sudden movement caused Connington´s mare to kick out in fear, almost throwing off its rider. The protecting gesture the man made to safeguard his head from the on him dropping hooves only worsened the mare´s anxiety.

The next moment the man was screaming, his left hand laying severed on the dusty cobbles of the street. In his fear for the regent´s safety Blount had attacked the man without thought, spending not one second on what such an act might trigger.

The respond followed promptly. With one loud cry the crowd descended upon them, carrying them with them like waves in the ocean. Shouts and cries were everywhere and soon Jaime lost every bit of orientation. Hands pulled at him, trying to drag him off his horse. Yet, Jaime managed to remain in his saddle.

Bordering on panic he looked around and let his eyes look out for the princess. _Where was she?_ He could not detect her in the masses of people that now were covering the whole street where ever he stared at. Finally, he saw her pony but to his horror the saddle was empty.

Desperately he made his way through the crowd, spending no thought on whom he might step, his thought completely set on the task to find his charge and then bringing her away from the chaos around them. But as much as tried there was no forthcoming against the waves and waves of people who tried to force him in the other direction.

Now it was not the people who made it difficult for him to remain on horseback but the animal itself. In its own panic it buckled and more than once almost managed to throw him off. Yet, he knew that if he should fall, there was hardly any possibility to find Visenya.

His horse cried out as if in pain and then ran off as if stung by a bee. For Jaime there was no restrain on the horse anymore and for Jaime; no way on controlling it. Helpless he clung to the back of the horse while it paved its own way through the crowd.

It could not have been more than five minutes before he saw the entrance of the Red Keep. Guards made sure to hold the portal wide open for the remaining company of the King´s procession to pass it. On instinct, his horse had run back to its home, a place where it knew to be save.

With him came the last to pass the gate and he heard the bars close behind him. Hectic Jaime looked around. Certainly, if Jaime had not brought the princess with him than Blount had. He had been guarding the Lord Regent but still the princess remained his priority as well.

But no matter how many times he gazed around the courtyard, there was no hint of the princess anywhere. Where was she? There was no way for her to be still outside, in the clutches of the angry mob.

He felt his breath grow erratic as he still could not see her. She had to be here. _Why was she not here? Had no one else kept an eye on her?_ When seconds passed by and there was still no sign of her, Jaime was forced to admit to the horrible truth. Visenya was still out there, helpless, alone and possibly dead. He had failed.

Over and over he repeated these words in his head while his body was already marching towards the gate, intending to storm out and search her.

“Open the door! Swift!”, he called hoarsely, desperation colouring his voice.

“No way, Sir”, the guardsman called back, face pale with shock.

His patience running short and blood rising to his head, Jaime drew his sword...

“Where is Princess Visenya? Ser Jaime, where is your charge? Why is the girl not with you?”, Connington harsh voice demanded.

Angry he wheeled around. Could he not see where she was? What he was aiming at? As if that monster even cared, he had no time for this. “Out there, Connington.”, he barked. To the guard he said, “Now open the door if you value your life and...”

“There is no way to open the gate now. If you had failed in your duty, then she is lost.”, Connington sneered and Jaime contemplated should that be the truth, he would kill the man. Right here and now. If he had not refused to see...If he had acted differently...

Before he could act though, there was a loud noise. It almost sounded like...again the noise was heard and this time Jaime could detect it as what it was. The loud ringing of a horn the kind of used at hunting.

Through the bars of the portcullis, Jaime watched a group of riders approaching the Red Keep and in the short moment of astonishment Jaime pondered whether the people had devised at attack on the castle but as he stared closer, it got plain that the riders did not belong to the common folk.

They were clad in iron and leather, a mix of armor and a hunter´s garment and bore the sigil of the three headed dragon of house Tagaryen and – Jaime had to look twice – the golden lion of the Lannisters. At the tip of the party rode two man but he recognized only one of their faces when they rode past the gate which had been hastily opened for them when they had approached.

The man he recognized was no other but the Blackfish, the king´s hostage provided by the Tully´s for their loyalty. For six years he had lived in the Red Keep but had recently granted permission by Connington to accompany the troops send out to take care of the bandits. Their return had been expected at the earliest next week.

But now as he watched the group come to a halt, he recognized that they were more than they had been when sent out. The members of the mission had at least doubled. And Jaime saw another thing as well. Right in front of the Blackfish was another person. Dishelved and eyes wide, her head marked by blood sat Visenya.

As no one spoke, too much taken by shock and astonishment at the unexpected appearance of the group of riders, the silence stretched on. Then the other man who had ridden at the top of the riders, whose one half of the face, as Jaime saw now, was terribly scarred spoke out in a rough cadence. “Name´s is Sandor Clegane. Lord Tywin sends his regard.”

Jon Connington

Jon glanced up to see his face reflected in the mirror hanging on the wall. He looked dishevelled and pale and short below his hairline he could detect a superficial cut, few droplets of blood running down his face. He had not noted it until now, its pain held at bay by the still lasting agitation that made his blood run through his body as if it were the water of a raging river. He would need to ask Maester Pycelle to stitch it for him after the council meeting. Till then his own meagre care had to suffice.

As soon as they had returned safely into the confines of the castle, Jon had ordered all preparations to be made to call in a meeting of the small council. With the today´s events there was much in need of discussion.

For weeks Jon had dreaded that day, when Aegon would have to leave to spend his days among a court of immoral vipers. And yet, he never could have foreseen that the today´s outcome would ever turn out the way it did. And all of this thanks to that awful girl. As he had predicted years ago, that child had only led to chaos and destruction. Had it not been for her, he could have focused his attention sooner to the troubles below in the city, the raids and the shortage of food.

She was at fault. She and the Martells. It would not even bewilder him if the rumours about her were actually true, claiming that she was cursed, for she certainly was. They had seen the girl for what she was and as such had only confirmed his impression of her. The same was true for the Martells.

But to claim that he would ever attempt to usurp Aegon...the mere idea was ridiculous. Had he not given everything to raise Aegon to be the king they all deserved...a just and honourable man who knew the laws of moral and virtue?

Why did the Martells even need to involve themselves in matters not of their concern? In fact, he had been surprised by the prince´s reaction as he had to hate the girl even more than he did with the girl being the daughter of Lyanna Stark. According to all of his sources Dorne held that woman in even more contempt than any other region did. Their excessive pride demanding it of them.

At first Prince Oberyn´s involvement had appeared to be a blessing – at least after the first waves of righteous fury due to the prince´s impudent behaviour had subsided – as Aegon had finally seen the true nature of his unholy relatives. Their growing close relation had worried him increasingly during the last years and he had already started to devise plans on how to impress on the boy the notion to better distance himself of such fool people.

But that Viper would not let thing come to rest. After the...incident with the girl he had come to hope that he would forget about it as he had done. It was not as if the girl had been overly hurt, after all. He had endured worse in his childhood whenever he had needed a lesson in respect and discipline and it had been unquestionably that the girl had been in need of a lesson of her own.

She had merely acted the hurt and helpless child and plied this as a means to take advantage of the prince´s hypocritical idea of himself of being the knight in shining armor. After this he had not heard of the prince for nearly a week and had already lulled himself into a false sense of security. Then, however, he had approached him with this impudent demand of Aegon to be fostered in Dorne.

And his demand ...gleefully as if he had only waited for an opportunity to take the king away from his influence. As ridiculous as the demand had been, he had treated it and had issued the Red Viper a rejection of his _offer_. Aegon would not have liked the notion of leaving albeit in the past he had often professed his wish to one day visit his mother´s homeland. But the interference of his uncle had taught him otherwise, the relationship between them strained and brittle.

And although with the weeks passing by their relationship had begun to heal – much to his chagrin – Jon had been positive that Aegon would still refuse to spend time in Dorne anytime soon.

In his position as Lord Regent they could hardly do anything to change his mind and with Aegon refusing as well, matters had seemed set.

Still staring at his reflection in the mirror, he saw his face set into a scowl. As a diligent student of the military campaigns of the Seven Kingdoms, he was an expert in regards to all kind of field tactics and strategies. Privy to such knowledge, he knew of the tactics plied by the Martells and their vassals; poison and secrecy, flight and hide. The weapons of a nation of cowards.

After his and Aegon´s refusal, the prince had seeked him out. All in privacy, of course. And Connington, already expecting some fight of Prince Oberyn – that at least he had to grant him; the Dornish was nothing but persistent – had awaited him, ready to hear the prince utter hollow threats. Threats he had uttered but hollow they had been not.

Princess Visenya had earned her punishment and any wounds she might have born from it, had been minor and superficial at most. Yet, he knew that anyone opposed to his reign could use such an information to weaken his and Aegon´s reign if word of it should ever find its way outside the small circle of witnesses. He only had to imagine what a lord like Velaryon would use this information for, misguided and overprotective as he was in regards to the girl. And he at least was loyal to the Tagaryens to a fault.

In case of others like Lord Tywin he could not be so secure in his believes of their loyalty. Words were dangerous weapons as well and with an information like this...Well, today he had witnessed first hand that even the most absurd and ridiculous of ideas could be altered in such a way that it set the commoners against you. Restricted in their lives as they had always been, they would believe everything if only told repeatedly and in the right way.

As such the risk of the consequences had been too high; if not for him than for Aegon and Aegon´s safety would always remain his priority. Moreover, he knew Aegon. Knew of his strengths. Even a few years spent with those vipers would not make him lose the morals and virtues he had taught him. He was too much his father´s son to do so. Too much a true prince to ever sink as low as them. Despite his mother´s blood, he was as little a Dornish as he was. He was wholesome of the dragon's blood, a son of Rhaegar.

In the end the Martells had won this fight but the war they would lose. They had underestimate him as they had their king and with the threat to reveal any of Aegon´s secret they had unveiled their true face as well. Already the boy had taken glimpses of it and one day he would fully free himself of those using him for their own ends only.

With a wet cloth he wiped the wound on his head and cleaned his face of the remains of blood. It would not do to appear the council soiled and tattered. Another lesson he had instilled Aegon. If you looked weak, your enemies would take you for weak. Such was the law of nature itself.

Using a second cloth he freed himself from the perspiration still clinging to his skin on face and neck. The hot weather and the following events had made him sweat as he had not done for a long time. Setting right his tunic and breeches and combing swiftly through his hair, he deemed himself ready. By now all council members had to be waiting for him.

With long steps yet by no means in haste, did Jon made his way to the council room. Blount who had guarded his door following on the heel. The man had his uses if not a smart mind. It had been quite unfortunate indeed that he had to overreact as he did today, otherwise the uprising could have been avoided.

He was a man best used for executing orders, rather than one to devise plans of his own. But this was also the reason that made him so valuable to him for as a consequence he could trust Blount to do what was required of him without questioning the orders bestowed on him. He at least knew the meaning of the word _duty_ contrary to many other subordinates he knew. Nor would he pretend to feel false remorse towards his done deeds. He understood that at times things needed to be done even if they were seen as controversial.

Blount too had not gotten away unscathed although he did not carry visible scratched himself. Merely parts of his arms were dented and showed marks of misuse as he could now see. Otherwise the events appeared to have affected him no further.

As he had predicted the council members were already awaiting him save the exception of Varys. He had sent orders to the Spider to keep watch of any changes happening below in the city. He would not need him to state the obvious. He entered the room and saw each of them sitting at their supposed seats. When the door shut behind him, Jon perched on his on chair, seated at the head of the table.

“I guess there is no need in reciting the day´s happenings, My lords. You will all have noticed.” Insistently he let his stare rest upon each of them.

In no one´s face he detected a glimmer of surprise or astonishment, instead their facial expression extended from dismay past worry to downright fury, Maester Pycelle and Lord Celtigar being the prime examples.

“Of course, Lord Connington. The tumult was heard even into my very own chambers.”, Lord Tyrell imparted shaken. “I can only thank the gods that my mother and my dear Magaery were already safely returned.”

“I am sure we all can agree to that.”, he reassured him. And indeed, had something happened to one or worse both ladies...the consequences would have been bleak. The Tyrells in their momentary position were great supporters of his reign and part of the few he trusted enough to heed their advice.

The other council members nodded in consent. He proceeded “Maester Pycelle, have you yet received tidings of how many are wounded?”

Nodding pensively the Grand Maester addressed him “Partly, My Lord Connington, partly.” His bony fingers searched in a pile of papers for a piece of parchment. Faltering he recited the list of injuries noted. “There are several marked bruises, mostly minor scratches however, one lose teeth, a head injury – the princess had presumably been hit by a stone – and a broken scapula.”

Pycelle clicked with his tongue and held the parchment closer to his face. “Ah, yes, one man also claims his horse to be killed. I believe it is the same with the broken scapula – the shoulder blade, I mean. It seems he had been thrown off his horse. More there is not known to me, yet, but I have ordered my acolytes to notify any further injuries should there be any.”

“Then you can add my son´s injury. Those peasants have broken his wrist.”, Lord Celtigar reported growling.

Maester Pycelle blinked slowly as if he had not understood a word of what had been said. “Ähm...yes..of course, My lord. Shall I... examine the young man...the young Lord Axel I mean?”

But Lord Celtigar continued in his rant, ignoring the maester´s offer. “I demand those savages to be punished! Such ravaging we cannot tolerate. If we do not react immediately to such uproar who knows where this will lead us.”

His face was set into a deep scowl and as to emphasize the just said, his right fist firmly hit against the oaken table.

“My dear Lord Celtigar, certainly their actions are in no way to excuse but we cannot forget that the lives of lesser people are often confronted with hardships we – as lords and ladies of noble houses – cannot even come close to understand.”, Lord Tyrell interfered placatory.

“I think with the current situation it is no wonder they reacted the way they did. They go hungry and the desperation that comes with such...well...I want to say...but, please, do not think I want to imply anything...but desperation makes some man react in ways they would not even think of if given the chance. And how do you think to punish them anyway as there is no possibility to sort out the true culprits. As I see it there have not been any great injuries and as such...”

“Do you want to imply that we are to do nothing?”, interrupted Lord Celtigar seethingly. “If we show them leniency how do you think they will react next time when they are in the mood to revolt? They even attacked Princess Visenya and attacking a member of the royal family...any member is tantamount to treason! I do not care what excuse they had, such behaviour has to be punished or we all will lose our faces!”

“I have to agree with...with Lord Tyrell...bestowing punishments now...in such times of hardship...As I have come to understand, for the people to revolt is often no sign of disloyalty but merely a way for them to express their...their suffering. Yes, I would say you can phrase it this..ähm...way.”

His speech was interrupted by several coughs and it nearly seemed the maester had forgotten what he had intended to say when... “ As Lord Tyrell said...this is by no way an excuse of their deeds but...ähm but as he also stated as commoners they are faced with lesser responsibilities and as such do not possess the capabilities nor the knowledge to see the greater picture. They are living in a world of their own with...with simple needs one as us cannot come to understand. Their lives rotate around the safety and strive of their families only, far away from the hardships of politics which they as a result often cannot understand.

As such they fear every threat to their safety even more...It is in the nature of man to be frightened by the unknown, after all...And even rather simple hardships as they are confronted with in times as those...I would say their way to react was to be expected. Henceforth...allow me to suggest to remedy the...the actual situation by not acting out with the intent to punish but with the intent to rectify their reason to fear. In my long years as Grand Maester...

Before the maester could elaborate further, Lord Celtigar came to interrupt his endless seeming tirade. “With all due respect, Maester, but in your position you can hardly understand what it is really like to be confronted with such savages. And savages is what they are. Yes, they face challenges of a different sort but that does not exclude them from their oath of loyalty and obedience towards the crown and their liege. Why else do we establish laws if not in the expectation that they are to be adhered? If one man is tried for a crime that is even more true for a great mass of man as they are even more of a threat for the security of this realm as a single man could ever hope to be. Only an iron fist can stop the spread of chaos caused by those individuals and an iron fist is what we need now.” Maester Pycelle seemed likely to protest, his mouth gaping open like a fish on dry ground.

Lord Celtigar then wheeled on Lord Tyrell “And you, My Lord Tyrell, your insight is certainly no surprise as you have been fortunately absent and your family having escaped the assault but for those who had the courage to leave those walls behind the situation is certainly a different one as you are presenting it!” His words were uttered harshly and at the border of insulting and this way it appeared Lord Mace considered it such as well.

Sputtering and his breast struck out like a puffed up bird he ventured “Are you calling me a coward!? If I may remind you I have much more experiences with ruling my subjects whereas you...when has you ever held such responsibilities ….

“You maybe do not want to face it, but times have changed. In older times one may have been used to leniency but you see what this has brought us. But I need not wonder; it had always been the younger generation to install change and progress. If you...”

Finally having enough of their childish behaviour, Jon resolved to bring it to a stop “I have heard enough! In-fighting will earn us nothing, My lords, and I have not called for this meeting to listen to the two of you quarrel.” He took care to add a firm and demanding note to his voice. It could not be that they thought about ignoring his orders.

“As much as I consent with you, Lord Celtigar, at times even the most logically and tried course of action has to be put aside to make room for the more unusual of ways. After all, we need not forget that we still have to take the welfare of the people into consideration. They are His Highness subjects as much as we are, and I know that it is in the king´s interest to provide all of his subjects with their deserved justice.”

It was a trait he would share with his father and Jon admired him for it, yet, as had been the case with Rhaegar, Aegon often would overdo in his wish to see all of them happy and content. For instance, he and Jon had been in a quarrel some time ago due to Aegon´s suggestion to enact a new law on the nobility that forced them to compile gold which was only to be used for matters concerning their subjects.

As king it was his duty to protect and care for the welfare of his people, yet this idea went definitely too far. After all, it was not a lord´s duty to take their labour off their shoulders. Each man as well as each woman had to provide for themselves and if they could not...well...the faith had always been reknown for their generosity and if that did not do...you just could not help everyone.

It was a lesson their young king had still left to learn.

“Sometimes it is leniency that carves the right way and I see that in this case it appears to be our only option. Lord Mace, Maester Pycelle, I can only agree with you that their lives do not allow them to detect the true culprit of their sufferings. Hunger is the true enemy we are facing now, and it is him we have to beat.”

Jon saw Lord Celtigar prepare himself to protest but he would not let him. “The aim of the today´s meeting is hence not only to discuss how to proceed with the situation at hand but how to solve matters concerning the constant shortage of food finding its way into the city. As we have seen it is not a matter to be simply let resolve on its own.”

Lord Redwyne spoke up “The greatest problem is of course the lacking trade by sea. Our ships cannot pass the Narrow Sea without fear of being boarded and those few captains who dare are soon to consider differently. The same is true for many other ships. With the worsening civil war that besets Volantis and several of the Free Cities it has become almost impossible to trade in those waters. The ships are either intercepted by rivalling parties or pirates who take advantage of the persistent state of war.”

Outraged due to the situation, the Master of Ships clenched his right hand into a fist “For nearly a year this is going on and it already cost me five of my own ships. If the war does not resolve itself soon, I fear the trade will even more retire than it has now.”

“This is indeed one of the more challenging problems. Fortunately...”, here Jon drew the words out to mark it as what it was actually meant “Prince Oberyn has made the offer to start negotiations with Bravos with the intent of reciprocal support at sea. They suffer as much from the lack of trade as we do and would certainly be interested in any deal, we have to offer them. Tycho Nestoris, the ambassador of the Iron Bank has made promise to submit our proposal to his committee and has – as you know – consented to accompany King Aegon upon his voyage till Bravos. This way the king will be safe any attempts of boarding.”

“Why not use gold to influence the war in our favor? The party that will be of greater use to us we will support with the means to win the fightings. The war may take place at another continent, but it affects us as much as any of those city at the other side of the Narrow Sea.”, Lord Celtigar threw in eagerly.

“I do not think that the cities will see it this way as well. They have never taken well to foreigners deciding their fates, inherent as they are. Most of them do not have even actual ruling systems.”, cautioned Justin Massey. The man served as his master of law.

“No, that they will not.” Jon could attest to this first hand. Even during his rather brief time in exile spend in Essos, he had gathered as much. “And I have no intention to spend our resources for such a fools errand, either. It is not the war in Essos that is our main concern but the war right at our own front door. I speak of the groups of brigands that roam the forest all along the King´s Way and as such stop most of the food transport to reach this city.”

“I hope you do not intend to treat such scum with velvet gloves as well, Lord Tyrell.”, scoffed Lord Celtigar challenging.

Lord Tyrell bristled with indignation. “Of course not! Those man are criminals and not some innocent folk. I have certainly no intention to allow them to get away with their thievery and the butchering of good men. I am a man of generosity and not an idiot as you so obviously want to show me off and I know how to deal with such lot. As the Lord Paramount of the Reach I have gathered vast experience in dealing with outlaws of all sort whereas you...what dealings had you with such things, My lord? As I recall, it is your lord-father and not you who is lord of Claw Isle.”

“I just wonder then, that by all your vast experience – as you phrase it – no food has reached the city this season since I cannot recall to have heard or seen of any traders of the Reach.”

“That is hardly my fault. It had been the insect which have destroyed the harvest of this year – some nasty new breed of locust. It has nothing to do with how I treat with brigands.”

Mumbling in raw voice Pycelle interjected. “I can testify to that, My lord. The Reach has indeed been invested with a plague of insect...locust to be more precisely this year. Reports claim for the...ähm...those bandits to dwell more likely in the regions of the West, the...the Riverlands and in the Crownlands along the roads of the king.”

Jon nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, it is indeed as the maester says. But as the fate wills it, we are to find a solution to this as well. An envoy has arrived send by Lord Tywin. Apparently, Lord Tywin has taken notice of the situation and intends to offer a cooperation to go against the outlaws together. He shall be here at any minute.”

Suddenly the maester sat up straighter. “Oh yes, Lord Tywin had always been interested in working together. His offer is graciously indeed, and I am certain with the aid of his soldiers the situation at hand will resolve itself soon.”

Jon noted an odd hint of cheerfulness in the old man´s voice that had not been present earlier. Usually his cadence did not vary much, containing mostly weariness or a sort of melancholia which made is sometimes difficult to listen to the maester´s words without falling asleep.

“You have spoken with the envoy?”, he enquired, intrigued.

The maester faltered and for an instance his wrinkles deepened as if in worry. “No, no...I mean Yes but it could not have been more than a minute. It is only that I know Lord Tywin very well. During his time as the hand of the king...well...we often would work together and as such I have come to know him as a very...very righteous man. He always had the good of the people he governs as his main concern...thus it does not come to a surprise to see him act out with the intend to aid the crowns struggles.”

“I will call him in.”, Jon replied to that strange half-answer. But maester had always been a role of their own.

The door opened and a man pounded into the room. Albeit he had only gained a short look of him before, he was easy to recognize and that not merely because of his mud-stained clothing.

The man was tall with long dark hair that was nearly as muddy as the rest of him. Seemingly he had not taken his time to wash himself before entering the council meeting.

Neither his height nor his disheveled appearance, however, were the main cause that the man remained so easily in one´s memory. It was his face or at least one half of it. The right side of it was marred with a great amount of scars, reaching even along his ear and part of where his hair ought to cover his head. It was gruesome to look at and made it not an easy task to estimate his age.

“You are Sandor Clegane, if I recall your name correctly?”, Jon urged questioningly.

“Yes.” The man did not elaborate. Just a simple retort, uttered in a strangely rasping voice.

“And you have been sent by Lord Tywin?”

A nod. It was plain that he was no man of many words. Jon himself did not consider himself one, either, still Clegane´s answers sounded as if he did not even care what kind of impression, he made on them.

“So, tell us, Ser, why exactly has Lord Tywin send you here?”

“I am no Ser.”, the man retorted harsher even than before.

“What?”, he spit out, dumbstruck at the unexpected response.

“I said am no Ser.” His eyes were dark and focused on Jon, unwavering and hard.

Astonished Lord Massey stared at him. “If you are no knight, whose services are you in? Name your master and tell us why he is not with you.”

“I am not a squire, either.” Jon though to have seen a brief grin flashing across his face. It did nothing to make the man any more likeable. The smile was grotesque and not for the purpose of merriment.

“About a month ago Lord Tywin entrust me to the task to compile a party of battle-proven man to advance on the bandits that are littering all along the King´s way. We were to aid in the crown´s killing of them. And that´s the only reason for mine and my men´s appearance.”

No emotion. No stirring. His words could as well have been recited from a book. He did not even display a hint of an interest towards the task he was sent to do, as if the hunting down and killing of men was a task like each other.

“It is well of Lord Tywin to offer us aid in such dangerous times but what of the West? Without his soldiers manning the roads will he not face the same troubles as we are now?”, addressed him Mace Tyrell.

Instead of Clegan, though, it was Maester Pycelle who provided him with an answer. “May this be as it is, yet, assuredly Lord Tywin has come to realize the... necessity to first aid the capitol in its misfortunes to restore the stability of the realm. By this means all regions will benefit from, the West included. It is the head after all that does the thinking and with....without it the rest of the body will cease to function as well.”

“Old man´s right.”, Clegan added humourlessly.

With narrowed eyes, Lord Celtigar regarded him, his gaze wandering up Clegan´s stained clothes. “How comes that your clothes are stained with blood? It is dried therefore I do not guess it stems from an earlier fight down in the city, does it?”

Jon did not miss the mistrust born in his voice. Seemingly Clegan did not, either. He grinned slightly, dark amusement flashing in his dark eyes. “No. The blood comes from some of those bastards I am ordered to hunt down. I dare say, you will not miss them. Nasty little bastards those were. One even had it in him to try and cut off my head...it did not bring him much as the Blackfish relieved him of his own, that cockroach.” The man laughed viciously, the sound even rawer than his voice.

Made attentive at the mention of that man´s name, Jon sat up straighter. He had wondered why and when they had met. “When did this happen and why were you with Ser Brynden? He had been hunting for bandits on his own as well but only in the vicinity of the city.”

“Yeah, the old man did. Our parties met five days ago. Told me they were chasing a group they had encountered few days prior. Were right in a fight when we came across and decided to help. We got all of them, but chance stands that they were operating in separated groups so that some of them will still be out there...not for long though.” Again, that dark laughter of him. Obviously, he enjoyed the darker aspects of his services.

Jon was not surprised by what he had heard, still he felt anger rising in him. Ever since Lord Brynden Tully had been in King´s Landing as punishment for his family disloyalty, the man had brought naught but trouble. Quarrelsome and impudent did he feel not the slightest bit impressed by the fact that with one misstep of his brother he would lose his head.

At beginning of the raids, the man had been one of the first to voice a word of warning and had tried to urge him into countermeasures as well as warned that if he did nothing, they would only grow to be worse. As his warning had regrettably proven sound, he had actually suspected for a time for the Tullys to be the instigators of the sheer endless amount of new bandits but as the Riverlands suffered increasingly more losses, he had discarded that idea.

No lord would ever come up with such a plan as it only harmed the own small folk and economy and with the Riverlands having lost much of their gold in the aftermath of their rebellion it was even more unlikely that the Tullys were behind it.

As his words had no sway on him, the Blackfish had come to offer to go chasing the outlaws all by himself and with him a selected number of fighters to accompany him. Of course he had denied his request at first, not wanting that traitor to use his chance and flee back home – not that it would be of much for him – but it had also delighted him greatly to cause the man the same chagrin he would cause Jon in return.

Three months ago then, as the raids had gotten worse enough that he saw himself compelled to act, he had given in the request of Lord Brynden. At least this way he would be of use, more than he was of as a hostage anyway, and with fortune the old man would kick the bucket at his attempt to play the hero. It was nothing short of what the Tullys deserved.

However, as he had no intention to let him believe that from now on, he would be treated with leniency only, he had granted him to go for his hunt only within a three day's ride of King´s Landing. Even than, he had complained and claimed, sullen as a child, that this would not be near enough to solve the problem of the raids once and for all.

Seemingly he had ignored his orders. As he had come to know him, the Blackfish was nothing but stubborn. If he recalled correctly this had also the reason for the man´s moniker, the exactly story to how he had come to his name, slipped his mind however. He could just hope that such stubbornness was not a family trait. Ought his niece, the Lady Catelyn Tully Stark had come to inherit the same characteristic, he feared what this might mean for the future generation of Starks.

Eddard Stark´s pigheadedness was already enough of a nuisance without throwing in another one.

Each year he would receive the same latter by him. Concerning always the same. It was an offer to allow the princess, Lord Stark´s niece, to get fostered in the far North in Winterfell. Time and time again he had dismissed them, nearly as swift as he had read them as Lord Stark did not even made the effort to phrase the content differently. Only recently, with the princess´ upcoming nameday, a raven had brought him the last one for the time being.

It was not as if the notion was not tempting to see that cursed girl spending her days in an icy hell among the wild savages of the North. No one wanted her here, he and Aegon the least of all. She was a danger and an abomination, born by a whore to bring chaos and destruction wherever she went. In the North she could have spend the rest of her days alone and forgotten as if she had never existed an it would be for all the better.

Yet, he could not risk. As much as he knew of her she was a dull and sullen child. Not an ounce of intelligence aside from her devising plans to create chaos. Moreover she was quiet and withdrawn and possessed naught of the legendary charm almost all of her ancestors disposed of. Another sign that she was not a true Tagaryen. She did not even had their beauty, her hair a dull brown, form and shape of face resembling an unsound horse. He had heard about the song, conceived by the young son of Lord Celtigar and he could not say that it hold no truth as the girl was indeed a princess only by name. _Oh my, the tale ends in remorse, the princess proves to be a horse._

But even in regards to that, she remained a dangerous tool if wielded in the right – or in their case – the wrong hands. Not to imagine what a lord like Eddard Stark would use her for, maybe even for a second attempt to usurp Aegon´s birthright and erase all Tagaryen from existence. No, he could not risk it. By the way was she a much too important means to held the traitors at bay as even the allusion to what he would do to the girl if the lords Stark, Arryn and Tully and whoever else wished to see this reign fail got out of line, was a threat to them.

Beside he already had devised plans of a different sort for her.

“As Lord Tywin has been so generous in his offer, we will accept it. Your man will be housed in the barracks among the Gold Cloaks. See to it that they do not make more trouble than they are worth. If you will accept my offer in return you can either share their quarters or you can get a room within the Red Keep. Of course, it will be near the servants quarters, but you appear to have no problems with such agreements. Whatever you choose you will certainly have need to speak with the castle´s steward. You can seek him out next morrow.”

Clegane had followed his speak with little reaction. He appeared to be neither pleased nor discontent with his choice or his future accommodations.

He cleared his throat when he received no retort. “Has this been all or do you have still something to tell us?”, he coaxed, just a hint irritated at the man´s silence.”

“Yes”, he said monosyllabic and draw a letter from his jerkin. “A letter from Lord Tywin for you.”

That he had not expected. Surprised he asked, “What it its content?”

“If I knew, Lord Tywin would not need a letter.”

Irritated he reached for the letter. It was amazingly clean considering its journey. With a flick motion of his dagger he open the parchment.

“What is it about, My lord?”, Lord Mace asked intrigued. He stretched as if to attempt to take a look at the written words.

“An offer.”, he decided to call it. “An offer for the princess to be fostered at Casterly Rock.”

“Oh.”, interjected Pycelle twisting with excitement , “what a chance for the princess. She will...”

“Unfortunately, it is an offer I am forced to refuse.”. He eyed the maester firmly. “As I already have plans of my own for the princess.”

When he saw at the other men gathered at the table he saw surprise shining rendered in their faces, however he thought to detect a treat of relief in the Fat Flower´s face as well.

“For months I have considered to send her away to be fostered far form King´s Landing. With Aegon gone to Dorne, she will be all but left behind. So, I saw this as a good chance for her as well to learn more about the realm beyond what the confining walls of the city can offer her.”, he went on mildly.

It was the best option to get rid of her without risking her to become a threat. Where he would send her, she would be out of the way and at the same time no one could accuse him of not taking her well-being into consideration. Lord Velaryon was many things; annoying, troublesome and overly fond of that miserable brat but he could not accuse him of being disloyal to the Tagaryens or Aegon in specific.

“It will also grant her the chance to reacquaint with her other relatives, Prince Viserys and the Princess Daenerys. The today´s outcome has only strengthened me in my belief that this is the right course of action. As such Princess Visenya will send to Dragonstone.”


	10. Arrival at Dragonstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the next chapter is finished. As always, I hope you like it.;)  
I also tried to add chapter names to the each chapter. Writte in the comments whether you like them.

Daenerys Tagaryen

Dany´s eyes went open. Sluggishly, she turned her head to one side and let her eyes roam the room. Her gaze came to rest upon familiar furniture and walls – dark stone against pale wood. When she tried to sit up, she noticed that – while asleep – she had managed once again to wander through her bed; her feet tangled in her pillow and her head resting at the foot of her bed. Still tired with sleep, she yawned loudly.

Burrowing her feet and arms contently into her soft blanket, she contemplated last night. She had dreamed a wonderful dream. So colourful and intense; flying upon a great dragon´s back, with wings so gigantic that they cast the world below her in deep shadows. Everything had looked so small from her high seat, tiny as ants while she had flown past castles and fields and men.

It had been a wonderful feeling and even better; it had felt real. How many times had she already wished for her dreams to be the truth only to wake up and finding the reality to shatter those wishes.

It was one of the reasons she loved sleeping so much. Only then, deep in her own mind, what she wished for the most in the world came true.

Slowly, she sat up and entangled her feet from her blanket. Her gaze flicked to the window. To her surprise, she saw that it was only mid-morning, an early hour for her to wake up. Mostly she slept through the greatest part of the morning despite of loving to watch the sun rising in the east; its beams drawing the ocean and sky in bright colours of pink and orange.

The rare times she would get up this soon, she would stand at the beach, lingering there till the sun had fully risen up. Every time a feeling of longing would evoke in her breast, the desire to set sails and travel to the wide lands that laid in the far east. But it should not be this way. At least not yet. However, this she had sworn to herself; one day she would cross the Narrow Sea and see for herself what unknown mysteries awaited her beyond the shores of Westeros.

Now, though, was not the time for such musings. If she was up, then she could also use her time wisely. Already she missed the warmth of her bed.

Dany had never taken well to the cold and although the last months had not been especially cold– as Ser Barristan had claimed – Dany still thought that the weather had not been anywhere near of what she would call warm. And that in the high of summer.

Sighing, Dany climbed out of her bed and went to her wardrobe. Most of her clothes were stored in another room next to her sleeping chamber, but a few of her lighter dresses were kept here, right assessable for her when need called. Opening the doors of the wardrobe, quite an assembly of different dresses caught her eye. They comprised a wide range of colours, probably every colour Dany had ever heard of; from red to green and black to white but she thought blue might be her favourite colour to wear. Blue and any sort of violet.

Often times, the decision what to wear for the day was based on a whim, mostly depending on the mood she found herself in when waking up. Yet, as the days passed by mostly in blissful joy, she would choose to wear blue in most cases anyway.

Today, Dany was in the mood for a soft velvet dress. In light of the upcoming event, she only thought it fitting. Later, she would have to change her attire into something more proper, but the few hours spent in the light and comfortable fabric would definitively make her day more pleasant.

Yet, albeit Dany preferred soft an light clothes over formal attire – it was just easier for her to explore and run around the castle and the surrounding island – she loved to dress like a lady as well.

Dany had always found joy in beautiful and elegant things and the velvet dress was a perfect combination of those preferences of hers with its exotic colour, the small tresses to rest on her shoulders and the elaborated embroidery stitched in thin steams of silvery thread.

Quickly, she changed her clothing and threw the night gown that she had worn for sleep over her bedside. She was just about to slip into her sandals – a gift from Lord Velaryon to her last nameday, as were some of her dresses – when a gentle knocking at the door caught her attention.

“Princess?”, the voice of her handmaiden called tentatively.

Daria was a young woman, born and grown up on Dragonstone and descendant from a long line of servants who had lived on the island for centuries. She had fair hair with a touch of silver in it and eyes the colour of soft blue. When the light caught her eyes in the right moment they even contained a hint of purple; probably the heredity of a long ago Tagaryen or Velaryon ancestor. In passing centuries Dany´s family, at least the male relatives, had often searched for company among the locals of the island and thus at times such unions resulted in the conceiving of so called _dragonseeds._

Every morning the young woman would come looking for Dany, to see whether her mistress has woken up yet. The tentativeness in her voice suggested that Daria had surmised for Dany to be still deeply asleep as it was so often the case.

“Come in.”, Dany called through the still closed door.

The door opened and the maid entered. “I did not think to find you awake this soon, princess. Didn´t you sleep well?”, chirped Daria cheerfully.

Like most who lived in the castle, she was a morning person, used to get up early in the morning before the sun had risen above the horizon. Not one hint of tiredness hampered her daily obligations nor dulled her usually lively spirit.

“No.”, Dany responded. “I slept pretty well, I think.”

It was the truth; but for her dreams of the dragons, her sleep had been restful. This time, though, she recalled now, her dream had been slightly different. As usual she flew upon a dragons back; it was a iterating constant. Normally, however, she would be alone, just she and her dragon. Now, there had been someone else with her. Someone she believed to know, yet, she could not tell whom this person might be.

Dany would not share this thoughts, however. When first she had confided her dreams to someone else, no one had taken her serious. They had been dismissed as the mere fantasy of a little child. She was a child, and Dany was not so arrogant as to claim otherwise, yet, she had known even then that these dreams were not so insignificant as what they had been dismissed as. She just knew to the very extend that the dreams contained a greater meaning than the simple wish-thinking of a little girl.

Not even Ser Barristan had believed her when she had told him about her dragon dreams. She knew, he had meant well, even stated that in the past there had been occasional Tagaryens with the ability to get glimpses of the future like Daenys the Dreamer who had foretold the doom of old Valyria.

Yet, she had seen in his eyes his doubt that the dragons would ever return to the world. With a rueful expression in his eyes, he had told her extensively of the history of their demise. _They are extinct, my princess, and longer still then I am even alive. If they ever are to return, I fear, we will not witness it._, he had told her.

Every attempt to bring them back had failed, that Dany knew of since she could read. Neither prayer nor magic had brought them back to life and all that remained were beautiful relicts, scaled eggs long gone to stone.

Her own egg, which so often laid with her in bed was such a relic as well. Almost as large as her head and the colour of dark black with veins of purple. She liked that it was greater than Viserys` egg; his a relict of green and bronc.

Viserys worshipped his egg as well. He at least would believe her; or so she had thought. But her expectations had been crushed when he had merely laughed at her dreams. Rarely had she been so angry with him and quite some time had passed ere she had exchanged words with him again. The memory still burned hot in her head; how she had cried when he had started laughing and told her not to spend too much times with false hopes. In her anger she had even thrown a vase at his head. She still recalled her brother´s startled and perplexed expression at her unexpected fury.

Dany always had had a temper; she liked to believe that it was her dragon blood, a heredity of all the Tagaryens coming before her, but even she had been surprised by her anger and that Viserys´ teasing had brought her to the brim of crying. It was not an easy feat to make her cry.

Dany just could not stand it when people made fun of her; least of all her brother. When his mockery was then additionally directed at something of such importance to her, it made it even worse.

She just could not understand his reluctance. If there ever had been one to take pride in their house and to boast with their ancestors deeds, it was Viserys. Every bit of their history was sacred treasure to him. A word of criticism – and as much as she took pride in her house´shistory, she was aware that not every Tagaryen had been a picture of virtue – was perceived like a personal insult.

The dragons had been the defining factor of their history, the means that had made it possible in the first place for Aegon the Conqueror to lay claim to the vast land of Westeros. They were the symbol of their power, evoking awe and fear in men´s hearts. It was what her brother craved for all his live.

As it stood now, all these fact she knew about her brother had made her wonder why by all gods he would not strife the least as her for the return of the dragons. It was incomprehensible and it had hurt to be dismissed by him. At least, he had tried to make amends and had gifted her with her first own boat to sail the waters around the island. Falling in love with the boat, she had to accepte his apology but since then the wish to confine in him she suppressed persistently, having no desire to ever do so again.

“Assuredly, you are very excited yet at the prospect of your niece´s arrival today?”, Daria continued to chirp.

She led her to the artfully carved table in the corner of the chambers, rightly besides the balcony. It was an old piece of furniture that had once belonged to her late mother, the Queen Rhaella. The sun brought out the wonderfully carved beast – some dragons, some snakes and some other creatures Dany did not know the name of – and made them look almost alive.

Daria gestured for Dany to sit down on the chair in front and picked up the brush that laid on the table´s surface. Like every morning the handmaiden started combing her hair till it shone like a river of melted silver.

Earnestly, Dany answered her. “Yes, I am. It had been such a long time since we have seen last and then I have seen her only once.”

“I´ve almost forgotten that you have met her already, princess. How long has it been...two years...three?”

“Two...I think.”

Originally, she and Viserys had been ought to meet their niece at Aegon´s tenth nameday festivities but when Viserys had fallen ill with some stomach sickness the plans had come to nothing. Neither of them had been permitted to attend the tourney in the end.

She recalled well her disappointment. Having grown up on Dragonstone she had come to love the ancestral seat of her house and had lived a life of peace and fortune as any could ever wish for, here admit the old walls of stone forged by magic and the salty waves of the sea. Still, there were things the old castle and the life on the island could not provide her, not when it was located as isolated as it was.

Dany would regard Dragonstone forever as her home but her living here was not sufficient enough for what she truly wished in life. She wanted more and crafted adventure, something she would not find here but could only be accomplished by leaving her home behind, by visiting other places all over the world, one of them being King`s Landing.

However, as crestfallen as Dany had felt; it had been nothing in comparison to Viserys.

Her brother had always been known to be of moody character and ill temper but being denied his attendance in King´s Landing had resolved in a new concept of moodiness.

For more than a week Viserys had adhered to his foul mood. He had been deliberately belligerent and hurtful which one time had even ended with one of the servants bursting into tears. He had snapped at everyone who so much as looked at him and had paved around the castle´s grounds in a provoking temper. The rest of the time Viserys had spend alone in his chambers, brooding and occasionally threshing against the huge oaken wardrobe with one of the many wooden swords that he used for his training at arms.

In the end, he had even fallen so low as to accuse the cook of having used rotten or otherwise foul nutriment that had caused his illness in the first place. Such a claim had been indeed unfair and Dany had told him so, as had Ser Oswell and Ser Baristan. To her surprise Viserys had actually admitted to his wrongdoings and went to apologize to the cook.

She had been proud of him, as it was rare the case for Viserys to admit to having done something wrong and apologizing afterwards. It took him always some time to battle down his pride ere he was able to do so.

Part of her could understand this kind of overreacting, though and not only because her brother had a worse grip on taming his temperament than she had. For him the disappointment had to be even greater.

Dany had been born on Dragonstone and regarded the old castle her home whereas Viserys had been born in the Red Keep and thus had not the same connection to the island as she had. She knew, Viserys had never regarded it as_ his_ home. His home was still King´s Landing and he wanted to return.

“How is she like, your niece?”

To that Dany could not say much. She knew next to nothing of her. When in King´s Landing she and her niece had hardly any contact, possibly the result of being shy of character. Dany could admit that when she had been in Red Keep for the first time she had felt intimidated by the great amount of unknown people and the new surrounding so different to what she had known so far.

It still felt strange to speak of Visenya as her niece; not to mention think of of her as this. After all, Visenya was almost eight months her elder.

Sincerely, she confessed. “I do not know.”

Daria did not let the answer discourage her. “Whatever she will be like, I hope she will get better here. After the attack she shall need all the rest and time to recover.”

Startled, Dany jerked her head violently aside to turn around and look at Daria. Her movement was painfully stopped when her hair kept caught in the brush. Dany hissed at the unexpected pain. “What do you mean?!”, she demanded perplexed. _What attack was she talking about?_

Equally startled, Daria stopped in her brushing and made a small step backwards. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her eyes hinted at bewilderment. “You haven´t heard, Your Highness? But certainly you have? There had been a revolt in King´s Landing; right after the departure of King Aegon. The princess – she had been attacked as well.” She spoke as if this were common knowledge.

Certainly, Dany had known of the revolt, she had heard Ser Barristan speak with Ser Oswell about it. Yet, she had not known that Visenya had also been a target of the insurgents. How was this possible?

“To attack a member of the royal family! How dare they?!”, Daria added indignantly as if the attack had been aimed at her personally. “And she is only a little girl! I hope whoever did this is rotting in the Black Cells!”

Dany could wholeheartedly agree to this. In the mirror Dany saw Daria resuming to comb her hair.

Eventually, she finished and Dany bounced off the stool. “Thank you, Daria. You can leave.”

The maid curtseyed and left. Pensively, Dany followed her through the door, heading towards the small hall where she and Viserys would usually brake their feast.

She was halfway there when she detected Ser Barristan standing by one of the small windows. She stopped mid-step and tilted her head to the side. A mischievous idea sprung to her mind and she smiled, her pensive mood forgotten for an instance. Slowly she sneaked up on Ser Baristan, mindful to step only on her tiptoes.

She was almost there, preparing to jump when, she saw him tense below his white gleaming armour. In one quick motion he wheeled around, his arms outstretched as if in the attempt to catch a flying bear. Giggling loudly, Dany made a few steps backwards as if to run away from him but stopped when it got apparent that the knight would not follow her.

Mirth carved into his features, Ser Baristan laughed. “If I not error, a little princess just tried to ambush me. But I would be a poor knight, indeed, if I had missed such an attempt.”

Still giggling, Dany retorted. “ Or you would be getting old, dear Ser.”

“Or I would be getting old.”, he admitted smiling. “ But fortunately, I think I am still capable enough to take care of my little princess.”

Dany loved the nickname, the old Ser had titled her with. It always made her feel safe with him, protected from all evil of the world. In some way, he was almost like a sort of grandsire for or maybe an older uncle. She could not recall a time when he had not been with her.

“Please, do not get old too fast.”, Dany pleaded. Albeit voicing the words in a further attempt to tease him, her plea still held a truth to it. She could not bear the thought that one day her knight had to leave her.

“I promise I will not. Though unfortunately, I cannot stop time to take its toll on me. That is an feat no one can pass.” He smiled a little sadly but only seconds latter, his features softened again.

“You are up early, princess. Is there any apparent reason?”, he questioned curiously.

Dany shook her head. “No, I am merely too excited to continue sleeping.”

She took hold of his hand – rough and calloused but still strong – and dragged him along. The knight did not fight it, merely chuckled softly and followed her lead.

“It had been a while since you have seen the princess Visenya. Your excitement is only natural.”

Dany humped in agreement. The thought of what Daria had told her still troubled her. Before, she had not dared to enquire the young maid but Ser Baristan assuredly would provide her with an accurate explanation.

“Is something bothering you, princess?”, he followed up, his voice calm and reassuring.

“Is it true that Visenya had been attacked? I mean when...during the revolt in King´s Landing?”

Dany pondered that it was better to directly make mention of what was bothering her. No reason to delay her worry.

She detected an expression of surprise on Ser Barristan´s face along with a hint of something else.

“Yes.”, he said low. “Princess Visenya had been attacked as well.”

“But why would anyone do that?”, she called in astonishment and indignation. Ser Barristan only sighed.

“This is not an easy question to answer. Though, I do not think that the people in King´s Landing had only acted out of malice if it is this, you want to know, princess.”

The answer did not suffice. “But I do not understand. Visenya is only a child. She has never done anything wrong!”

The knight´s eyes grew sombre. “No, she has not.”, he admitted.

“Then why?”

“Princess,”, he hesitated. “I earnestly do not think that you should...”

She interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “But do you not think that as princess, it is my duty to know about such things?” She paused for a second. “Tell me!”, she demanded and added when she noted how harsh her tone had become a hasty “Please.”

Defeated, the old knight bowed his head and complied. “As you wish, Your Highness.” If not for his pained expression, the formal address of hers was indicator enough that he did not like what he was about to tell.

“I would believe, it is because of her mother.”, he said reluctantly.

This answer Dany had not expected. “Queen Lyanna?”, she inquired in astonishment.

“Yes.” He looked ruefully. “You know of her and your brother´s common history?”

Dany nodded. Of course, she did. Albeit already married, her brother had chosen Lady Lyanna at the Tourney of Harrenhall to be his Queen of Love and Beauty only to take her with him one year later and marry her in secret. During war Rhaegar would hide her in a tower in the south till it would be safe enough for them to be reunited. After their reunion, though, Lyanna would die giving birth to Visenya and her brother following her only one year after.

She always remembered the story with sorrow. When she had been younger, however, she had thought it romantic if not for the personal loss of hers. Merely the fact that Rhaegar had already been married to Queen Elia, then Princess Elia of Dorne, had bothered her. Only later, had she gotten to know later that the Queen consent in the matter. For this Dany could not help it but admire her.

From Viserys she knew that Rhaegar had looked for a new wife as Elia Martell had proven infertile after the birth of little Rhaenys. Others, however, agree with her that her brother had indeed been in love with his wolf-lady and she really did not think that Rhaegar would have risked so much if not for love.

“What reason would they have to...to hate her?”

The lines around his mouth and eyes deepened. It made him look weary and so very old. “Because the folk sees her as the cause and the instigator of the rebellion.” His voice was as weary as his face.

He continued when he saw her face still set in an expression of non-comprehension.

“It is believed that if not for the Lady Lyanna, Robert Baratheon never would have started his rebellion. When she vanished with your brother, his greatest aim was to bring her back. However, none of this would have happened in the first place if not for Lady Lyanna seduction of Rhaegar.”

“But this is a lie!”, Dany called out fiercely. “My brother would never allow this!” Everyone who had known her brother always told her of her brother´s intelligence and his sharp mind. It was nonsense to assume that Rhaegar would ever allow a girl not older than fourteen to seduce him as though he had been but an ordinary man.

“You are certainly right. It does not fit with Rhaegar. He was not like Robert, always the first in the row to conquer a woman´s innocence.” For a second, his grimaced in disapproval.

“Yet, people believe what they want to believe and the rebellion has left great suffering behind. Each war does...”, Ser Barristan almost whispered. “And with the current situation...so many people going hungry, the war in the east...people are quick to blame someone for their suffering. It does not help that...”, but he trailer off because he could finish his sentence.

Dany wished to know what the knight had wanted to say but a more prominent question occurred her. “But Lyanna...she is dead...”

Sombre, Ser Barristan faced her. “Yes, Lyanna is dead...but her daughter is not. And too often it are the children who suffer for their parents´ sins.”

“But this is not fair! It is not her fault. Neither is it Lyanna´s fault.”

“No, it is not.”, the knight agreed.

Angry, Dany said. “They are evil. I would never do something like this.”

Ser Barristan´s thin lipped mouth curled upwards into a soft smile. “I know you would not. But you must not forget that desperate people do desperate things and the way things are spiralling out of control at the moment they had to be desperate indeed.”

“It is still not an excuse.”, she said petulant.

“No, but there are things we can not change even if we want to. At times we just have to face it and go on.”

Weather Ser Barristan was right or not, Dany did not like it. Yet, with the anger she felt at the whole situation another thought occurred her. If Visenya was hated because of her mother, what did this mean for herself?

Her own father had not been a good man. Had not been a good king. She did not ask about him often and most were content with this fact as no one was too eager to indulge her with stories about her father.

Only once, before she had known that Aerys Tagaryen was a topic best to avoid, she had attempted to pry information out of Viserys.

It had not been a pleasant day. His reaction had been nothing of what she had expected. He liked to share tells of their countless of famous ancestors – he always had. But when confronted with questions about her father...he had grown quiet. And not the usual sort of quiet, moments before a heated tantrum of his. He had simply ceased to speak, had stood up and left the room without even looking at her.

At first, she had been perplexed, then insulted because he had just ignored her as if she did not even exist. Afterwards she had visited him in his chambers – or at least had tried to. He had not let her in and through the door she could hear him cry. It had not been difficult to understand what that meant.

Though, still knowing not many details of her father´s reign, she knew enough. Thus, she wondered indeed what reaction she had to expect from them as daughter of the mad king.

“Is something amiss, princess?”, Ser Barristan asked cautiously when Dany resumed her silence.

“No, I am just hungry.”, she lied. She did not feel the need to indulge further in unpleasant thoughts.

Approaching, they heard loud voices emitting the room. One of them she recognized being Viserys´s. And according to what she could conclude from his cadence, he was engaged in another heated discussion.

At her entry, she instantly spotted his verbal sparring partner. Lady Eleana. Dany found herself not really surprised. Lady Velaryon´s only daughter and her brother had never gone well along. Too often their contrasting personalities had clashed together.

“...will not work, Viserys. Trust me.”, Eleana emitted, not without a hint of condescension in her voice.

Enraged Viserys prepared for an answer when his gaze flew to the door and he caught her standing between the frame. Immediately, his face lightened. “Ah, Dany!”, he greeted her. “Please, tell this stupid...” At her disapproving face, he wisely changed course. “Just tell your...friend that she has not an inkling of how strategy is supposed to work and as such would be better to refrain from sharing her unwanted opinion.”

His face twisted scornfully. “After all, I do not meddle with embroidering pillows, either.”, he added disparagingly.

Snorting unaffected, Eleana merely countered. “Well, least I have a better understanding than you.”

“What are you talking about?”, Dany spoke up questioningly before Viserys could go for another heated reply.

“I...”, Viserys started, yet was cut off by Eleana before he could voice his answer.

“Viserys merely unveiled his concept how to best advance against the brigands roaming in the King´s Wood.”, she chirped lilting. “He proposed the best way to do so is to cut down the forest.”

Vexed, Viserys scowled at her. “Which is the best way to deal with them. Take a rat its lair and it will have nowhere to hide. But being so smart, I am sure you know a better way how to do it. So, let´s hear your advice then.”, her brother coaxed.

Eleana looked at him with feigned patience. “I certainly would not ply this strategy. As I said already, it will not work. The whole idea is stupid.”

Upset, her brother made semblance to rise from his seat. “You stupid - ” However, the hand of Ser Barristan pushing down at his shoulder, stopped him mid-motion.

“Prince Viserys...Your Grace, one must always respect your opponent´s position. Do not allow yourself to become vexed by it.”, the knight spoke mildly but firm. “Regardless the mode it is voiced in.” His gaze settled slightly chiding on Eleana.

The girl grimaced adequately mortified. Still, she could not quell to stuck out her tongue at Viserys, her seagreen eyes flashing mischievously. It were the same eyes, she shared with her father and brother. In contrast to father and brother, though, her hair was more gold than silver. Well, her father´s hair was more grey than silver these days, but still, the point stood.

Both were currently on their way, accompanying Visenya on her journey to Dragonstone.

At the thought of Monterys, Dany felt her cheeks blushing. With twelve years of age, Eleana´s brother was quite the mature and charming young man – albeit at times a little bit to serious for his own good.

His sister was almost the complete opposite of him – cheerful and carefree, often out for japes and teasing with Viserys her most favourite victim. What they had in common, however, was their indubitable loyalty to her family along with a striking charm and the love for the sea. Most important, though; both were very dear to her.

“But certainly, you agree with my assessment, Ser Barristan? Or what are your thoughts regarding the brigands? I am sure as knight of the King´s Guard you have engaged quite the number of them, yet.”, Eleana indulged flattering.

At this the old knight laughed. “Yes, in my youth I certainly have. The first time when I have been sixteen, trying to do honour to the name Ser Duncan the Tall had bestowed on me. And indeed, I have chased the one or other brigands. I am still not too old to do it now, but I have not done so in quite some time.”

“So, what are you thinking about Viserys´ strategy?”

That, Dany liked to know as well. Attentively, she waited for his answer.

“Prince Viserys has made a good point.”, he said considerately. “Often enough, there are knights, even lords who forget the significance of the battle ground. Even a small group of fighters is able to win the battle when having the better station as is often the case when having the high ground. It is not by chance that it is easier a task to hold a castle than to conquer its walls, after all. And naturally the resources are of some significance as well.”

Viserys grinned. “The same way King Aegon conquered all of Westeros. Though he had the smaller army, he defeated all of the seven kingdoms. They stood not a chance against him because he had his dragons.”, he boasted complacently.

“Certainly, the dragons were of significant aid in his conquest. And moreover, the Conqueror was well known for choosing his battlefields wisely.” The knight´s face twisted in remorse. “Unfortunately, in this case preparing the ground is not so easy to resolve. The King´s Wood is much too large to cut down in its entirety and besides too much a factor of economy to waste it like that. Furthermore, the raids are not bound only to the near vicinity of King´s Landing but the regions of the Riverlands, the West and the Reach as well.”

Had her brother´s eyes flashed in triumph only moments before, at this his expression fell and he scowled petulant.

“They have their own soldiers. Certainly, they can solve the problem on their own. They do not need us for this.”

Again, Ser Barristan looked pained, lines etched deep around eyes and mouth. “But they do, Your Grace. Loyalty is a two way road. As the crown´s subject, the Lannisters and the Tullys...they owe the crown their fealty and support. In return, however, the crown is bound to protect them and to offer its lead and guidance.”

“If they had wanted our guidance and protection, they would not have rebelled.”, Viserys said through gritted teeth, though he did not dare to look at the knight. “The Reach I can understand – they stayed loyal. But the Tullys and the Lannisters...Lord Tywin did nothing till the end. Only when Rhaegar...”, he broke off.

Dany did not understand – she had never heard about this before. However, Ser Barristan appeared to understand him even without the words being said. “I know, but just because others fail in their duty, are we allowed to abstain from ours? Moreover, it is the smallfolk that is in need of the greatest protection and which suffers most from the raids. The farmers and fishers had no part in the rebellion. A good leader knows, they only did what was needed to survive themselves as they have sworn fealty to their lords and ladies as well.”

Still, Dany detected the reluctance in Viserys´ eyes but he nonetheless he agreed. “Yeah.”

Ser Barristan´s face softened in relieve. Restless, her brother played with his hands and after a while he said. “Well, it does not matter anyway. If I had been regent, I would not have allowed those brigands to gather in the first.”

Eleana released a faint snort. “I am sure you would.”

But despite her words being uttered challenging her eyes twinkled with light mischief and the smile that stretched her lips was soft when directed at her brother. It immediately lightened up the tense air around them for they started laughing when Viserys let out an exasperated sigh.

For a while they remained silent, their focus solely set on breaking their feast and a comfortable air settling around them. A few minutes passed such when Eleana´s voice broke the silence once more.

“You think, Visenya will like it here on Dragonstone?” Her eyes shone with honest curiosity. Still it almost seemed to be a question resting heavy on her mind.

“Why not?”, Viserys answered her disinterested and shrugged absent-mindedly with his shoulders. “She can do the same things as in the Red Keep. Living on Dragonstone will not stop her from doing embroidery or chattering with her ladies, does it?”

This earned him a fierce scowl from Eleana and also Dany felt slightly taken aback at the almost condescending answer. He knew quite well that they spend their days not only with – how had he formulated it earlier?– embroidering pillows.

Dany was about to scold her brother and tell him to stop his annoying runt, Ser Barristan, however, beat her to it. To mitigate the previous answer, he said gently. “I am certain with you to keep her company, she will not lack any comforts, My lady.”

Eleana beamed and fortunately this time Viserys refrained from snorting derisively.

Pleased, she carried on. “You know, father asked several times yet for her to be fostered on Dragonstone but Connington always refused till now.”

Perplexed, Dany tilted her head aside. _Why would he do this?_ Loud she asked the same.

Eleana shrugged none the wiser. “I do not know, maybe because of safety measures?”, she guessed.

Viserys interfered. “If it were out of safety measure neither of us would be here. Besides, Dragonstone is impenetrable.”, he stressed as if that was a fact well known. “We are absolutely save here, our ancestors themselves built the castle.”

Elaena did not let her bothered by this. “Then it is because of other reason. Father never liked him. He said, he is...” suddenly blushing, Eleana trailed off. “Well, regardless what father said...I do not like him, either. I have even heard that he and Visenya do not go along well.” She sounded downright dismayed. “Can you imagine!? How can he not like a member of the royal family!?”

At this display of honest affection towards her family, Dany felt a warmness blossoming in the pit of her stomach. This was just the reason – at least one of many – she liked the young Lady Velaryon so much. When her gaze caught Ser Barristan, she saw that he was equally touched by the sheer shock of the young woman. He smiled warmly and amusement flashed in his eyes.

“At least his loyalty is not in question. After all, rumours say that Aegon is like a son to him and in his youth he was a close friend of your brother. I even heard that he...”, she made a demonstrative pause. “Well, that he loved Rhaegar.”, she said slowly.

Dany did not know what to say to this. What was so special that Lord Connington loved her brother? It was a good thing, or not? She would have been more worried if he hated Rhaegar.

“What?!”, escaped Viserys. At Eleana´s word he had abruptly recoiled in his seat.

“Of course, I do not know whether it is true but Alayne – one of my mother´s handmaidens – once told me...”

Ser Barristan intervened. “My lady, it is not respectable to indulge in mere rumours. I am certain, Lord Connington is a man loyal to the Tagaryens and a good friend to King Rhaegar. Many a man there are who loved him dearly.” Still, his voice was gentle, not a hint of anger heard in it, but Dany knew that he was upset with what Eleana had said. Not without reason he was so firm about it. It was palpable for Dany.

Most days, she could read her old knight like an open book and knew what he thought and felt. At the same time, however, she often could not decipher the reason for him to feel as he did. The same applied right now.

“But...”, Elaena started but gave up sightingly when Ser Barristan did not deviate from fixing her with his firm eyes. “It does not matter anyway. Visenya is coming whether he likes her or not. I just hope, she will like me.”

“If she is anything like me...,” Dany made a pointed pause and looked at her, “she will love you.”

Elaena beamed, her smile reaching from one ear to the other. Content, Dany smiled back.

* * *

Dany stared at the sea, the waves breaking against the shore and filling the air with the smell of salt and seaweed. Slowly the ship – a great three-master – made its way up the small harbour to dock at the nearest pier.

One of the stable boys had been first to spot the ship nearing in the distance. Half an hour had passed since – Dany marvelled yet at the deception the sea could provide; one would not think that it took a ship so much time to finally reach its port – and still they waited in anticipation.

Nearly the whole castle had taken up position – the nobles and serving staff alike. Being the Prince of Dragonstone – the heir to the Iron Throne as Aegon had no son of his own yet – Viserys held the highest position and as such was situated at the foremost line along with the castle´s castellan.

Serving the day´s occasion, her brother had dressed in the colours of their house: black and red, mirroring Dany´s attire. Mayhap an unfortunate assembly of clothing as the dark colouring made her brother sweat thin rivulets of perspiration that darkened his waistcoat at back and along his armpits.

A swift glance around revealed that most of the castle staff was suffering likewise beneath the penetrating beams of the midday-sun. She did not know why, but she herself never suffered from the heat of the sun as others did. She could remain in its embrace the whole day without longing for the cool protection of the castle walls. Eleana was the same. Together they would – whenever the possibility presented itself – roam around the island or board a small self-made raft to drift on the sea along to the rhythm of the waves. Of course, only accompanied and watched by Ser Barristan.

Eventually, the ship came to an halt, only floated by the up and down of the waves. Beside her Eleana started shifting excitedly from one feet to the other. Dany wished she could do the same; she was not the most patient of people. Yet, she knew she must not. As princess she was obliged to make a properly first impression – noble and awe-inspiring, a model of virtue and grace. Thus it could not do to trample around like a fidgety small child.

Above the ship she detected movement; two sailors scrambling around ere the plank – a heavy piece of old wood – was lowered down the pier. Dany felt her excitement rising; the urge to crane her neck and get a better view on the proceedings ahead hardly able to suppress.

Then, after an eternity seemed to have passed, a man emerged, standing at the top of the plank. Dany recognized him in an instant. Lord Velaryon, his shoulder-lengthy silver hair flying in the breeze of fresh air and the seahorse of his house prominent on the light jerkin he wore.

Measured, he made his way down the plank till he came to rest in front of Viserys. In an elegant motion he descended into a deep bow. “Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys, at your service.”

Viserys gestured for him to straighten up and accepted his greeting with a solemn nod. “Your presence is always welcome on Dragonstone, Lord Velaryon.”

Dany followed her brother´s example by offering a nod herself and, when catching Lord Velaryon´s gaze, added a welcoming smile. He returned the smile immediately and motioned behind him. “You remember my son Monterys, I believe?”, he inquired politely.

At his words a lanky boy descended the plank, almost a mirror of his father. He had hardly changed since they had last seen each other with the exception of having allowed his silver hair to grow past his shoulders and gaining one or two inches in heigh. Again, Dany could not refrain from blushing, especially when Monterys took her hand into his to press a soft kiss upon her knuckles.

“It is always my pleasure to join your presence, Your Graces.”, he said almost too grave for his age, yet imparted with undoubtedly honesty.

Viserys registered his words with a further nod of his head. “Be our guest.”

Monterys bowed slightly in gratitude and stepped aside.

“If you will allow me then, Your Grace”, Lord Velaryon proceeded. “May I present to you; Princess Visenya of House Tagaryen.” With a formal gesture he pivoted on place and directed at the ship where at last the girl they were assembled for, appeared on deck.

Slowly and gracefully she took the steps down the plank ere she halted and bent into a curtsey. “Prince Viserys”, she looked at her brother. “Princess Daenerys”, her gaze swept to Dany.

She was surprised to note the low and temperate cadence Visenya imparted her words in. It was not at all what she had expected her greeting to be. They were family after all. Ought she not to be more joyful? Instead she sounded so formal and detached, not fully registering the events unfolding before her.

“Dearest niece, welcome on Dragonstone.”, Viserys said, trying to sound mature and wise with this choice of words despite the fact that he was merely seven years older than said niece.

Dany let her gaze roam down her body. As Dany herself and her brother, also Visenya was clad in the colours of their house, though the whole black made her look – and Dany really did not want to be rude – a bit sickly.

And indeed, Visenya was quite pale of skin. Dany could not recall to have ever set her eyes upon a girl who equalled her in her palor. Dany would even dare to say that she looked translucent, the blue of her veins standing out below her skin. Now, however, her skin color resembled more grey than the pure white that she had still in mind from her stay in the capitol; it gave her an unsound and somewhat sad appearance.

She pondered whether this had something to do with the revolt in King´s Landing or if she still missed Aegon; he was her brother after all and although Viserys could prove to be quite the annoying companion sometimes, she would miss him dearly were he ever to be send elsewhere.

Otherwise she had not changed much; her hair as brown as ever and her eyes still resembling dark amethysts; somehow exuding the same inexplicably sombre melancholy. The dark made an interesting contrast to her skin, as Dany had thought even then at their first meeting.

It was interesting to reflect how even her eyes, albeit the same exotic colouring as all Tagaryens had it, could be so dark. Her own eyes, Viserys´ and as far as she remembered Aegon´s as well, were all either of indigo colouring or a light shade of violet.

For an instance, Dany allowed her attention to drift to the ship behind. Watching the up and down of the ship, another thought occurred to her; mayhap Visenya did not stand the sea? Many a men did not suffer well the swaying of a journeying ship; at least not at the first time. Dany herself never had to struggle with such troubles but it would be a reasonable explanation for the miserable mood Visenya appeared to be caught in.

While Dany had let her thoughts wander, further passengers had descended the ship. Now a man, dressed in the same amour as Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell, had stepped besides Visenya, his hair shining like spun gold in the sun. Ser Jaime Lannister, the youngest member of the King´s Guard.

Him she recalled as well if only because he was so handsome. After him, more people assembled and one after the other stepped forward to present themselves or be introduced by her niece. Among them, Dany counted two septas, a young, slender woman with the same light hair as herself – to her greatest surprise – and four further young girls presumably the same age as them; Visenya´s ladies-in-waiting.

Eventually, the introductions concluded and Visenya took her chance to ask. “Are we to go inside then?” Her voice was mildly polite and her face indicated temperate curiosity. “I am to like to get acquainted with my new home.”

Dany did not know what to make of her.

* * *

After departing the pier, the ship had been unloaded while servants had been bestowed with carrying their guests´ garments and clothing to the bedchambers. Dany herself had picked out her niece´s; located in the same wing as her own and Eleanas´. This way they were close enough to slip in the other one´s bedroom at night to chatter as she and Eleana would often do.

Sadly, Dany had not the chance to show Visenya yet, as the old septa who had accompanied Visenya, insisted on spending time before dinner with their studies. Seemingly, one of Visenya´s ladies-in-waiting had gotten sick during their passage. Her constant vomiting had prevented each attempt for the lessons to take place.

In the meanwhile, Viserys had retreated along with Lord Velaryon and his son to do whatever they were supposed to do in the time between. Dany had to struggle not to release an annoyed sight. She could well conceive of better things to do but to sit around and practice her embroidery and worse; it would take some hours yet, ere the feats on the occasion of Visenya´s arrival was to commence.

Dany felt the disappointment rising up in her. Till now the day left a lot to be desired, with only a feast to hold her boredom at bay; and a mere feast had not been what she had hoped for this day. Gladly, Dany would have liked to show them around the castle instead. Knowing it to its bones, she would have made the perfect guide.

“Are you better now, Ysilla?”, inquired one of the girl concerned.

Dany looked up from her handwork to see Magaery Tyrell´s concerned gaze fixed on one of her companions. She was a doe-like girl, Dany thought; with wide brown eyes and hair, and not to forget Visenya´s first-lady-in-waiting.

“Yes.”, the golden haired girl retorted. Still, Dany thought she looked a bit green around the nose. She could not help but pity her; the sea really having done her no good if she was still haunted by the after-effects so strongly.

“Be glad that it took only two day. Just imagine, we had to be at sea for weeks. You would have had nothing to eat but dry bread.”, one of the dark haired girl threw in. She did not sound rather sympatheticely.

“I have heard, after a few days you get used to it.”, her sister objected. “So, I do not think you had to eat only old bread. Besides, had I to eat only old bread for weeks, I would rather throw up, anyway.” She warped her face disgustedly, lending her an unpleasant air to look at.

“Lady Jeyne, we do not use such crude language.”, chided the septa and looked at her with firm eyes reminiscent a hawk eyeing its prey.

The girl blushed and lowered her head in shame. “I am sorry, Septa.”, she said abashedly.

Next to her, Magaery laughed joyfully. “My uncle also often tends to use rude language after an extended stay on sea. My grandmother would always become vexed; one time she even went to him and seized him by his ear.”

“That may be so, but we are not on sea any longer, and it is a ladies duty to never refrain from their manners in all circumstances.”, the septa replied firmly, yet her gaze had softened significantly.

Magaery merely smiled and concentrated back on her work. Dany tore her eyes away from Magaery and fixed them on her silent niece. During the whole exchange, she had not shared one word.

Deeply immersed in her own handiwork, it appeared she had taken no notice of their conversation. However, something told Dany otherwise.

For once, her spine was too straight to be anything but tense and the movement of her fingers too aimless and unfocused to be really the reason of her divided attention.

Still, her skin glimmed unnatural pale, despite that they were now sitting in the shadows of the castle walls. Equally had no smile, whether forced or genuine, crept onto her face. She looked as detached and unhappy as at her arrival.

Her pondering was interrupted when Magaery addressed her. “Princess Daenarys, you live on Dragonstone since birth, do you? Can you tell us about your home? I always thought the castle contained so many mysteries and history.”

“If you like, My lady.”, Dany complied happily; if there was one thing she loved to do, it was to share her knowledge about her home with others. “Dragonstone is not as old as other castles but it is right to assume that it inhabits more secrets and mysteries than others of its kind. It is wonderful to live here; the beach, the beautifully carved castle – you know, it is rumoured that the castle has been crafted by witchcraft.”, Dany explained, her voice slow and smooth so that her audience could follow her words unperturbedly.

Attentively, Magaery listened to her, head tilted interested to the side. Feeling compelled to hear what Dany had to tell, also the other girls straightened up in their seats. However, whereas Lady Magaery seemed genuine interested; her eyes curiously fixed on Dany, her three companions were far more reticent in displaying any form of curiosity.

At least, Visenya ceased in her needlework and averted her gaze from her lap to cast an intrigued gaze at her direction.

“Maybe, you could show us around sometime?”, Lady Magaery suggested.

“Glady.”

Beside her, Eleana intervened. “Yes, then we can also go swimming at the beach. The water here is much warmer than usual. All over the near vicinity, the island is streaked with underground hot springs. And “, she drawled. “There are beautiful reefs as well; we can visit them with a boat if you like.” At the prospect, a warm and beaming smile blossomed on her face.

Lady Magaery grinned back and Dany could not help the smile that crept upon her face as well. The brown haired girl was a likeable fallow, frank and kind if a bit too enthusiastic. She was exactly as Dany had imagined the daughter of one the high houses – and the Tyrells no less – to be.

Yet, there was something Dany did not quite like about her; that stopped her to from fully trusting her. Maybe, it had to do with the fact that albeit she smiled and chattered, she never did try to involve Visenya.

Barbra, Jayn, Ysilla and even the septa; they all seemingly cared just about Magaery and what she liked. She even sat in the middle of them whereas it was her princess that rested outside of their little circle. Not once had one of them tried to include Visenya or made a sign to involve her in their conversations and laughter.

It could have to do that Visenya was not – for the one or other reason – in the right mood to be included but it was still odd that they did not even attempted to cheer her up. Yet, Dany did not want to judge to hasty, not when they were had just yet arrived.

“That would be wonderful”, Magaery consented. “I fear in King´s Landing such wonders of the sea do not exist, though sometimes we would go swimming in the Blackwater Bay.”

Barbra – or was it Jayn? – nodded in consent. “Yes, our father showed us how to swim when we were still at home, though we always swam in rivers or lakes and not in the sea. The whole saltwater itches in the eyes.”, she complained.

Ysilla turned to her. “And what else do you spend your time with? Do you often hold feast or tourneys?”, she questioned Dany. At this question the girl listened up.

“Not often; only when I or my brother celebrate our nameday or Lord Velaryon is visiting.” . Disappointed, their expectant expressions fall.

“Oh.”, Ysilla made and tried to hide her feelings behind are false mask of cheerfulness. “How often does he visit Dragonstone?”

It was Eleana that answered her. “Every few month; whenever he returns from one of his voyages. In the last years my father has made it his habbit to sail the Narrow Sea and visit the nine free cities – at least he did ere the fightings started.”

“I am sure, he has fascinating stories to tell.”, breathed Magaery admiringly and leaned forward, her embroidery forgotten on her lap.

“And does he bring fabrics and rare jewels with him when he returns?”, the younger sister of the Brackens added. For clarification she brushed over the surface of her own pink coloured dress.

“Yes.”, Dany nodded affirmatively. “But also spices and fruits. One time he gifted me and Eleana with a rare bird from one of the many islands in the east. Naath, I believe it is called.”

“Why is it so rare, have they not enough?”, Ysilla threw in.

“Yes, but father told me that only those born on the island can survive there. All else who tried, died a horrible death.”, Eleana whispered dramatically and gestured widely with her arms.

“Why?”

Elaena shrugged. “I do not know.”

“Maybe they have a contagious illness?”, suggested Ysilla.

The septa looked up. Till now, she had let them indulge in conversation but seemingly she had her own words to share. “If this is the case, they better remain where they are. We already have enough foreigners to invade our kingdom.”, she remarked disdainfully.

Dany cast her a disparaging glare when the septa looked the other way.

“In King´s Landing, we have a man from the Summer Islands“, the younger Bracken-girl started. “He is a prince or some sort but his folk banished him; therefore he lives here now because they did not want him anymore. He is called Jhalbo and...”

“Jalabhar Xho.”, Lady Magaery corrected. “I believe, he was called Jalabhar Xho, if I recall correctly.” Her voice was far from condescending and even though Lady Jayn´s cheeks flushed red, she did not seem to mind.

“Anyway, when I first saw him, I thought I would faint. He looks so hideous with all those feathers and the pitch-black skin of his; almost like a demon.”

“What else do you expect from a savage.”, Septa Urnella scoffed, eyes narrowed slits and her nose ruffled as having just perceived a nasty smell in the air.

“Hhm,”, agreed Lady Jayn frantically. “Worse however, is the other one – the man with the burned face.”

“You mean Sandor Clegane?”, her sister offered.

“Yes. Have you seen him? The whole right side of his face is burned down. It is so ugly.”

“You should not judge too rashly. Just because he is no handsome prince, does not mean, he is not of decent character.” They wheeled around. It was no other but Visenya who had spoken.

“What would you know of this?”, asked Barbra after she had regained her wits. Seemingly, the others were as astonished by Visenya´s interference as Dany.

“You forget, it had been him who rescued me.” Dany might error, but she thought, Visenya´s eyes had narrowed just slightly.

“Hardly a deed done out of love and chivalry; it was what his lord demanded of him.”, the septa intervened again. Still, her features had not changed. They appeared likely to have frozen in her harsh expression.

“Besides, he is always so angry. Have you not heard him talk? How he laughs when talking about how he will kill those bandits in the King´s Wood. He is no knight. He is horrible.”

“More is to pity him; him and Prince Jalabhar Xho.”, Visenya whispered. Her eyes had grown distant.

“And why?”

“Because the one has lost his home and the other because life must have embittered him; or why else would he take joy in killing? Mayhap, it were those wounds that made him what he is. I wonder how he received them; they look old.”

Dany had not thought it possible but the septa´s facial expression grew even sinister. “You ought to keep away from him; you all do.” She eyed them closely. “And cease your nonsense about pitying him. He is a stray hound and naught else. The gods saw right to mark him with this face of his. A hideous face to fit his hideous character. And that...prince”, she drawled the last word contemptuously. “ is a godless savage. Mayhap, it will teach him to convert from his false demons and grant him the chance to accept the truth of the Seven and bathe in their glorious light.”

For a brief instance, Dany was sure to see Visenya´s face twist with anger. However, when Dany took a second glance, her face had returned to her mildly interested mien of impassiveness.“There are many gods in this world – so, how can we presume to claim that the Seven are the only true deities?”, Visenya inquired boldly instead. “In the North, the Starks still worship the old gods; my own family as you have certainly not forgotten.”

“I have not.” Her tone made certain that she did not approve of this fact.

“Moreover , if the gods mark evil with hideous faces and grant each what they deserve, why then, it is so often those, blessed with beauty and wealth, who spread havoc and fear?”

“Do not talk of things, you do not understand. You are hardly in the position to know of such things.”, the septa reprimanded her, voice as cold as the wind that blew around the castle´s towers.

Dany had heard enough. She did not like it in the least how the septa spoke with her niece. _How dare she, to be so disrespectful! Doesn´t she know whom she is talking to?, _Dany contemplated irately. _Visenya is her princess, the king´s own sister and the blood of the dragon and she dismisses her as if she was naught more but a mere servant._

Cold, she intervened. “I thought, it is the gods holiest commandment that everyone is to be treated with love and compassion?” Her brow was raised in astonishment.

Taken aback at her intervention, the septa regarded her for a moment before answering. “Of course, it is, yet, at times exceptions must be made...”

“What kind of exceptions?”, Dany interrupted without consideration that the septa had not finished yet. “The commandment says that there are no exceptions, that each has to be shown the same compassion regardless of their status or their wealth...or even how they look like or what deity they adhere to.”

“Princess Daenarys, you are still young and do not know the dangers those savages pose with their...”

Again, Dany did not allow her to finish. “What possible danger could they pose? I do not see the northmen trying to force their faith upon us. And in Essos, have they not thousands of different deities? I do not see them fighting one another over who is right and who not.”

“As long as they do not condemn us and our faith, what reason would we have to forbid them their own?”, helped Visenya along.

“But do you not love the Seven, Visenya? The septs, the rituals and the singing?”, questioned Magaery startled. It was plain that she did not understand Dany´s and Visenya´s view.

“Of course, I do.”, Visenya replied hastily. “As princess of this realm it is ever my duty to act in protection of the faith of the Seven.” _Really? _Dany had not known that.

“Yet, I also see the advantages of diversity. After all, we still speak of the _seven_ kingdoms. Once, all of them had their own culture and still have.”

“Besides, aren´t the old gods trees?”, interjected Eleana curiously. Dany had no idea. She had never spent much time pondering about the faith of the northmen. Though, she could not imagine that Eleana´s statement was correct. Certainly, there was more behind the old gods then mere trees. However, she knew them to be at least partly of importance, if the godswoods were anything to go by.

“What kind of gods allows to be peed on by dogs?!,”, the younger Bracken-girl snorted. Dany did not like her comment nor the way she and her sister laughed afterwards. Looking at Visenya she could see her disapproving gaze as well.

But Dany had no desire to start a fight so that she choose not to reprimand them for it. “That may be as it is.”, Dany said sternly. “One thing is certain, however; that it is not on us to judge.”

Resigned, the septa shook her head. “You have a good heart, Princess Daenarys, but I fear you will see differently one day.”

“I believe not.”, was Dany´s only reply. She did not make an effort to sound cordially. If anything, this conservation had shown her that she did not like the old woman. Pretend as she might to be a kind and straight old woman with only their best of interest at heart, this radical view of her was something Dany did not want to have anything to do with.

Judging by her expression, Septa Urnella had come to the same conclusion.

“As you like.”, the septa said, voice dry and bleak. For now, it seemed, she had given up her pursuit. “But now, we will return to our studies. I want this embroidery finished before the feast.” and with it, she wheeled around and took no further notice of Dany.

Still, she felt eyes resting on her and when she looked around, she found Visenya, eyes fixed on her, an odd expression making them gleam. It might be gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> I try and hope to make this story the lenght of a novel though I cannot promise that I will bring this story to an end. In case you are interested in the plot, please comment in the comments and also add if their are huge mistakes in my grammar and vocabulary since English is not my mother tongue and I am still at school. I also appreciate any kind of suggestions and hints if you recognize any mistakes in the logic of my story or the background of the world of ice and fire.


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